Connections Finished
by Kitsa
Summary: Finished...please read and review Set after Agape, S2 AU.
1. Default Chapter

Connections  
Part 1 - Connections  
  
The cell phone went off, dragging Detective Sara Pezzini from her pile of paperwork with a flash of irritation. "Pezzini. Go."  
  
"Hello, Sara," the soft voice of Ian Nottingham came to her, shaking her composure slightly. One of these days she would learn not to be startled by him. She covered the mouthpiece with her hand.  
  
"Hey, Danny, can you give me a minute?" He gave her a questioning look. "It's personal," She turned back to the phone as her partner left the room with two coffee cups. She took a breath, "O.K. Nottingham, what do you want?"  
  
"Many things, most of them impossible." he said sadly.  
  
"If you are going to start with the cryptic bullshit again, I'll take a pass if you don't mind."  
  
"No. I'm sorry, Sara. I need to speak to you, it's important."  
  
"O.k. I'm listening."  
  
"This would be better done in person. Will you meet me?"  
  
"Right now? Where are you?" she looked around to see if he was lurking nearby.  
  
"No, this evening. wherever you like."  
  
"Somewhere public?"  
  
"Not necessarily a good idea-it regards the Witchblade." Sara sighed. "Guy sure knows how to get my attention." she thought. "Fine, I'm out at 5:00. my apartment, say 7:00?"  
  
"All right, whatever you wish."  
  
"And Nottingham."  
  
"Yes, Sara?"  
  
"Try the front door, I would hate to accidentally shoot you. It would ruin my free weekend." On the other end of the phone Ian Nottingham flashed a rare but tired smile, where he knew she couldn't see. Perhaps she was growing accustomed to him. He hung up the phone and left the precinct parking lot slowly. It had begun. there was no turning back now.  
  
Sara hung up her phone as Danny returned with two cups of the sludge that passed for station's coffee and handed her a cup. "Everything all right?"  
  
"Yeah, I just seem to have acquired a date, that's all. And before you ask. don't."  
  
"O.k., partner." 


	2. Part 1 Cont

Ian walked through the streets, mood changing moment to moment. Life, a chance to continue, or not. How do you keep going when all you know is gone? Is it possible to make a new start, or even an old one? One life, so many choices, changes, things he was prepared for, things he was not. What was this new life anyway?  
  
He walked down the street, no clear goal in mind, time to kill and nothing to focus on, or at least nothing he could focus on. He dealt with a few minor details, changing appointments and bullying employees relentlessly. He was in no mood to deal with the petty bureaucracy that had become his life, or at least was attempting to take over it.  
  
Tired, so tired. When was the last time I slept? Or at least slept well? One night, two, a week? Everything a blur. Father, why did you leave me? Why did you have to win, even in the end? Death before defeat. No retreat, no surrender. But what was I to do? What can I do? All I ever wanted was to serve you both. Images, his father falling, Sara asking, pleading for his help. If I had helped her would it have changed anything? If I had killed her? Could I kill her? So many questions, decisions, forward, backward, how do I live through it all. Hate, love, pain, lust, desire, death.hope?  
  
Ian wandered aimlessly through the park, practically empty in the cold; bleak, like his thoughts, at least some of them. Somewhere he wanted to believe, to convince himself that it could be better. The rest just wanted to see an end, to everything. He wanted to hate her, but he could not. Everything is connected, and now it is your turn, to change things.  
  
He returned to his car. Just a few last minute details, words turning over and over in his mind, possible answers, possible questions. How do you predict a conversation, know just what to say when everything turns on something as basic and as easily misunderstood as the spoken word?  
  
Sara walked into her apartment, dropping her helmet and keys on the counter. The thought of her meeting had her nerves in a panic. What do you have to say to a man who had been given the opportunity to kill you at least twice and both times had offered you his life in exchange? To the man whose father you killed, no matter how accidentally, before his eyes? She decided the world would look better after a bath as she wandered towards the bathroom shedding her clothes.  
  
He slipped unnoticed through the crowds rushing in and out of Grand Central Station, the imposing old edifice seeming to watch over the throngs below. Ian moved quickly, just another man with a bag over his arm heading for the nearest men's room. The two gentlemen already in the room took one look at him and decided they had important appointments to keep, elsewhere, anywhere. He smiled a little to himself; his naturally predatory demeanor once again had served him well. He moved quickly, changing into the exquisitely tailored black suit, the fine black silk shirt that slide smoothly over his skin, the sensation, one of the few sensations he was familiar with, smooth, almost overwhelming in his exhaustion rattled brain. The tie, simple, elegant, silver jewelry.  
  
It is a myth, young Nottingham that the clothes make the man. A man can wear the finest suit as if it were a grain sack, or rags as if he is a king. It is merely the trappings, a masque to hide the man within. The voice, images from his childhood, of standing aside as his father prepared for some event or other. Right now he needed a masque, the appearance of calm to hide his inner turmoil. Soon, one chance to make it all worthwhile, to find a way to fulfill his mission, his destiny. Hair slicked back tightly into a ponytail, a last check of the suit, everything packed away in his bag. No more hesitation, it was time for him to go forward and take action. He gathered his belongings and left, swallowed up in the crowd in an instant, one more businessman, rushing through the city on a Friday afternoon.  
  
Standing in front of her closet, Sara wondered what the dress code was for meeting a handsome, if possibly psychotic, ex-stalker in her apartment for a quiet tête-à-tête over the Witchblade. She looked longingly at the shorts and tee shirts that passed for normal at-home wear but knew that was a little too casual. She settled for black jeans and a white eyelet tank top, figuring at least she would be comfortable. She finished dressing and lit the living room candles. Maybe calm the ambiance a little, try to ease some of the tension that seemed to accompany their every meeting. She poured herself a glass of wine and did a last scan of the room for anything that was laying around. Satisfied, she sat down on the couch to wait and soon was lost in her thoughts, her encounters with Nottingham.  
  
"I was sent to kill you but find I cannot."  
  
"My Master, Kenneth Irons, he says that you must die in order for the  
Witchblade to take on a new Wielder."  
  
"Please. it would be a favor I would love never to return."  
  
"A cruel destiny to be sure."  
  
"Have you ever heard the old adage "take the cause out of the man there is no cause for a man?"  
"I love you.in unguarded moments."  
  
A knock at the door woke her from her thoughts. Sara took a deep breath and rose to answer it. She looked through the peephole and was completely taken aback by the sight of Ian Nottingham standing there dressed in an incredible black-on-black suit, hair tied back in a ponytail. He carried a florist box tied with a red ribbon. She took a second to compose herself and opened the door.  
  
"I suppose you should come in," she said, standing aside to let him pass. He came in, handing her the box a bit self-consciously. When she looked at his face she noticed he looked a little gray, as if he was very tired. She took the box to the counter, not sure what to expect, and opened it. Inside were two long-stemmed roses, one white, one red. She was startled, not sure what to make of the gift. "They're. they're beautiful, but why? And why one of each?"  
  
He moved toward the living area behind her, his back to her. Ignoring the first question, he answered the second. "The white is for peace, purity.of purpose," he said quietly.  
  
"And the red?" she asked a little hoarsely.  
  
"Many things-Passion, Love, lust, desire.." he trailed off.  
  
Same old Nottingham, she thought to herself, not sure she really wanted to think more about what he had said or what he meant. "O.k., then. uhh, thanks, I should put these in water. I guess take off your coat and sit down." trying to cover the awkward silence with something. Ian took off his topcoat and hung it in the hall, returning to perch on the arm of the couch. Sara grabbed a vase, ran some water, and put the flowers in it. She carried the flowers over and put them on the coffee table, unable to figure out what else to do. Flowers and candles, not quite the way she had pictured this in her mind. Ian sat motionless, his head down, not looking at her. "Would you like a glass of wine? I'm sure it's not up to what you are used to, but on a cop's salary.." She trailed off, realizing that she was babbling. Got to get a hold of myself, she thought . "Thank you." She brought him the glass and sat down on the opposite side of the couch, curling her feet under her.  
  
"Since this is not supposed to be a social call, you want to let me in on what was so important you had to see me? You said it was about this." She raised her right arm in his general direction. He looked into the glass in his hand, gazing into the red depths as if looking for inspiration.  
  
"You are so important. The world has changed. In a heartbeat everything that I knew, that I believed in, disappeared to be replaced by chaos, the unknown. Except you."  
  
"Listen, Nottingham," Sara broke in, feeling a small bit of irritation and apprehension in the back of her mind. He looked up at her, head still lowered, and held up his hand to stop her.  
  
"This. this is not easy for me. please. let me finish." She nodded cautiously.  
  
"All my life I was raised with two purposes in mind. To serve my Master, my Father, Kenneth Irons and to protect the next Wielder of the Witchblade, you, Sara. When the two began to conflict, I did not know what to do. I was torn, confused. I could not think clearly, so I did nothing and the choice was made for me."  
  
"I didn't want any of this. If you came here to hold me responsible."  
  
"No, Sara, I do not blame you. Like me, you did not make the decision. He took that choice away from you just as he took mine away from me when he asked me to kill you. I am not trying to hurt you. I wouldn't. I want to explain. As you said before, no one else would understand." He turned pleading eyes on her, then lowered his gaze to study the glass again. He was exhausted, held up by will and discipline alone to finish this.  
  
Sara was taken completely aback by his words. Just when she thought she had the man pegged, he changed course. The temp in the room seemed to have gone up a little and she put her wine glass down on the table. "I don't know what to say to that, to you. I haven't understood anything for weeks. If you want me to listen, fine. If you want my forgiveness, it's really not mine to give. I don't particularly hold you responsible for trying to kill me. If you had really meant to, I have a strong suspicion I wouldn't have walked away." Ian's head slipped lower. "Would I?" He didn't answer, did not want to admit how hard it had been to keep his reflexes under control. Ashamed that he had tried to force her to kill him as Irons had, to add to her pain. "That's what I thought." His gaze flicked up quickly, noting that she had shifted forward a little bit, no longer sitting with her back pressed against the other arm of the couch as if she needed range in case he turned violent. He raised his head slowly, trying to shake off years of training, and met her eyes for a long moment. He raised the glass in her direction and took a cautious sip. The wine burned a bit on his tongue and he looked back at the glass, mildly surprised. He took another sip.  
  
"Something wrong?" Her voice was a little harsh.  
  
"Just a new experience." Sara raised an eyebrow at him, mildly annoyed.  
  
"Sorry that it's not up to standard."  
  
"I would not know," he said quietly. "Mr.. My father did not permit me to drink alcohol, although I know a bit on the subject." Sara was startled both by the statement and the openness, the brief glance into his life. Maybe he was not what she thought him to be. maybe she wanted to find out what he was? Startled by the thought, she looked up at him, intrigued. "You know, Nottingham, I know next to nothing about you, and I suspect you know a good deal about me."  
  
"That is not important. there is nothing to tell." He tried to get away from the subject.  
  
"Bullshit, I don't buy that for a minute. For starters, you are the only son of one of the richest men in the world and I seem to be the only one aware that he ever even had a son."  
  
"There are a few others. It was his wish that it be kept that way," he told her, his voice almost emotionless.  
  
"Bastard." Sara said with feeling, not realizing she had spoken aloud.  
  
"Technically," Ian said with just a trace of humor. For some reason that annoyed her as well, made her more upset with Irons.  
  
"No, that's not what I meant. To do that to a child. give you life but not his name, keep you around like some kind of ."she trailed off in frustration and surprise, not able to believe she was getting this worked up over Nottingham.  
  
Ian shrugged. "He felt it was safer for me. Any child of a powerful man is a target." He dismissed the thought, attempting to turn the conversation back to its original course. "I didn't come here."  
  
Sara broke in. "And I suppose letting the world think you're his lover or some kind of lackey was protecting you too? In your best interests. Did you ever stop to think whose interests were more important?" she was half-shouting at him.  
  
The strength of her anger surprised them both. Ian met her eyes and then looked away sadly. He looked as if he had not slept since the night Irons died. "He never cared much what the world thought of him. To him it did not matter." Sara regretted her anger, or at least regretted letting it get away from her that way. It would be obvious to even the most self- centered of people that he was exhausted and hurting, for all that he tried not to show it. She took a moment and tried to find the right words. She knew what it was like to lose a father, whether he had deserved the title or not. Sara took a deep breath.  
  
"Ian, I'm sorry. He was your father and you loved him." She put her hand on his arm. She felt him tense a little at her touch but he didn't pull away. He looked at her, a tear in his eye. She continued softly, "I know what it's like, you know, to lose a father. You miss him, don't you?"  
  
"Yes. He loved me as much, as well, as he was capable. But I'm learning he was not perfect, or infallible, the hard way." He gave her a sad smile.  
  
"Nottingham. Ian, why don't you sit down here, you might be more comfortable," She moved back, letting go of his arm but making space for him to sit on the couch- close enough to be a comfort but not too close for now. Somehow an evening spent doing grief counseling with an exhausted assassin just did not seem to bother her as much as it perhaps should have. She knew what she needed to do. "Tell me about him. the real man. I only saw him toward the end and he was." She looked for the right word.  
  
"Mad. The Lance drove him insane. I never wanted him to have it. Some things should just not be." She reached out again for him, taking one gloved hand in hers. She thought about asking him to take them off but realized she had never actually seen him out of them.  
  
"Tell me." She asked him quietly. His hand closed on hers in silent gratitude. He took a deep breath, then began.  
  
"When I was a child, he took time for me. telling stories, playing games, teaching me things- things about the Witchblade, about history, the things he had seen and done. When I was very small, he would set me in his lap in the big chair and read to me. As I got older, the discipline got harsher, the lessons changed, I learned to fight." He paused and took a drink. Sara experienced a brief moment of concern. He was exhausted, grieving and probably a little shocky, his first drink should ideally have been postponed, she realized belatedly, but at least he was relaxing. She let him talk, realizing that he needed to get it out and that most likely he did not have anyone else to listen. It saddened her somehow.  
  
"Take off your jacket, you'll be more comfortable," she said patiently, as if talking to the child he was remembering. Years of ingrained obedience led him to comply without question, handing her his jacket, which she threw over the back of the couch. That was when she saw the 9mm in the shoulder harness. She experienced a brief flash of fear, considering his current state of mind. Slowly she reached up and tugged gently on the strap, ready to back away if necessary. He merely slid out of the harness, lost in his own memories. She took it and set it on the end table on her side of the couch, and let him keep talking.  
  
He told her about discipline and strategy, about games of combat and warrior training and spirit. He rambled on, painting a picture of his father for her. years of love and cruelty mixed in his words without him even realizing. He told her about war games and martial training, the discipline, both physical and mental that his father had required of him, the rigid emotional and physical control. He mentioned briefly his years with the Black Dragons, as far as he had ever been from his father except at school, the drugs and the conditioning that meshed so well with his upbringing because his father had sponsored it. "He tried to insulate me, teach me how emotions made you soft, weak, vulnerable to control by someone else. He gave me these." He held up his leather-gloved hands. "to keep the world from touching me, to keep me from touching the world. I have worn them ever since." There was almost a note of pride there, or something close enough to it that Sara had to duck her head, holding onto both his hand and her temper. She could not let him see the sadness and the anger that fought for control of her face. Going off half-cocked now would not help anything and might in fact damage the fragile connection she had made. "It didn't work, you know," he said, looking at her. "My father made me the perfect tool of his will. precise. controlled. But you touched me , Sara, without ever laying a hand on me, without him even being aware that you had done so. He could not succeed. so in the end I failed." Tears fell but no sound came from him. She wondered how long it had taken for a child to learn to cry silently, so his father would never hear.  
  
"You didn't fail him, he failed you. Grieve for the father you loved, not the man who died." She slid her arm around his back, trying to give what comfort she could. He didn't even resist. He was finally talked out and looked like he was going down for the count. Resigned to her unexpected houseguest, she squeezed his arm gently. "Come on, Ian." She stood up. He looked at her, confused and barely conscious.  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
"You are going to sleep." He followed, silent and dazed. At least he's still mobile, she thought, I'm pretty sure I can't lift him. She took him to her bed and had him sit down. "Give me your vest and tie, you can't sleep in them," she said in a low voice, trying not to startle him, not that she probably could at this point. He was too far gone to protest and obeyed mechanically. She reached down and undid the top button of his shirt so he could breathe. Sara thought about trying to get his gloves off but decided against it. as ingrained as that was, it might wake him. "Go to sleep, Ian. You're safe." He laid down and was asleep before his head hit the pillow. She took off his shoes, threw a couple of quilts over him and felt his forehead for fever. Sara looked at his face, the first time she had ever seen it relaxed, his restless eyes closed. Even asleep he had a certain rigidity to him, as if he would jump up at any moment. Actually he looked very young. Sara wondered how old he was and then filed it away under the many things she did not know about Mr. Ian Nottingham. Funny. after tonight, she knew more than she had ever thought she would or ever want to know about his upbringing, but she still did not know a lot about him as a man. She took a last look at him, grabbed her pajamas and the spare quilt and turned out the light. "Goodnight, Ian." He, of course, said nothing.  
  
Sara returned to the living room. She was confused, upset, and frustrated, emotions she did not deal well with at the best of times. "If the bastard wasn't dead, I'd kill him again!" she said, startling herself when she realized she had spoken aloud. She got up and paced the living room restlessly. Her head was swimming with information and conflicting images: Irons attacking her; holding a young Ian as a doting father; the cold businessman who had threatened her so confidently outside Vorschlag; the man who used his son as a guinea pig. The stories Ian related so casually, never realizing the monster who had raised him, who had made the man that Ian had become. The gloves, that was probably what bothered her the most, the visible sign of enforced isolation almost made her almost physically sick now that she could see it for what it was. The concept of sympathy for Nottingham itself was just.She ran out of words or imagination, she wasn't sure which. She felt like she had been handed a giant jigsaw, half-done, and a pile of pieces that didn't fit. Maybe she could get more sense out of him when he woke up. She did not realize how upset she was until suddenly the 'blade came to life on her hand, startling her again. She tried to calm down, to breathe, to turn away the images Ian had given her. It explained a lot about him, she thought. The blade slowly retracted as she relaxed a little. She took the bracelet off and set it on the table, next to Ian's harness and gun. "Maybe it's safer this way," she said to it. She realized what she had just done and shook her head. "Great. Now I am talking to bloodthirsty jewelry." She looked in on him, still sleeping. To hell with it, she thought, grabbing her quilt. She lay down next to him, pulling her quilt over her and laying an arm across him. "Just for tonight, I'll protect you." She was almost asleep when she was jolted by a thought. Son of a bitch, I still don't know what he wanted to talk about.  
  
Sara woke slowly around noon the next day with a raging headache and rolled over to find Ian Nottingham in her bed. Carefully, so as not to wake him or disturb her head, she slipped out of bed and wandered to the kitchen. Putting on coffee, she grabbed some aspirin and sat down. It was at that moment that the thought came back to her.Nottingham in her bed? She sat down to let the coffee and aspirin work. She was not up to dealing with that complication right now.  
  
After a pot of coffee, three aspirin, and a shower, she was more or less ready to deal with her complication. She wondered if he would still be there when she came out of the bathroom. He would most likely be still asleep or perhaps he would have vanished again. She was torn between her desire to learn more and the hope that he had disappeared, simplifying her life for the moment. Ian was still asleep where she left him. He must have moved at least once because all the blankets were twisted around him but overall he was still unconscious. She checked a little closer, making sure he was still breathing. "God, Nottingham, how long were you up?" Sara asked him softly. Deciding he needed the sleep, she grabbed some clothes and headed out into the living room to begin the household chores that usually got saved for her day off. As asleep as he was, any noise she made was not likely to make an impression. "Hell" she thought, "Short of a firefight next to the bed, nothing is going to raise him until he's done. And that's probably the best thing."  
  
The day was fading toward evening when she started to notice a change. He was stirring a little restlessly in his sleep. Figuring he would be waking soon, Sara put on the kettle and contemplated the refrigerator. Not enough food for anything like a meal and when was the last time she had cooked anyway? Ah.New York City. home of delivery. She called out for pizza, lots of pizza, not sure how well he had been eating in his condition, if at all. She returned to the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed to wait. The last thing she wanted right now was a confused and disoriented Nottingham waking up alone. Besides, she was afraid that if she gave him too much time to consider, his guard would be back up and the connection she had made with him last night would be gone for who knows how long, if not forever. She realized suddenly that Ian Nottingham actually mattered to her. It was a shocking revelation.  
  
Ian regained consciousness slowly, his head hurting and not entirely sure of where he was. Last night. the last several nights. were blurry. He opened his eyes a little. He recognized the room. Sara's apartment. He came fully awake and tried to sit up as the headache crashed down on him. "Easy, Bright Eyes," Sara said quietly, holding out a hand to steady him. The playful nickname from their second meeting surprised him almost as much as her sitting on the side of the bed next to him. as much as finding himself in her bed at all. She smiled gently at him as he opened his eyes fully. How long had he waited to see her smile at him? What had he done to earn it? The pounding was making it impossible to think. "Hold on. Here." She handed him a glass of water and some aspirin. "I am guessing that you have the mother of all headaches." He took the aspirin gratefully. "Don't try to sit up yet, you were completely exhausted last night, you need a little bit to come out of it."  
  
"How long." he said hoarsely.  
  
"Were you out? About 16 hours, give or take. There's tea on the night stand and I ordered food." He reached out impulsively and touched her arm.  
  
"Thank you, Sara." He closed his eyes, trying to get his bearings. At least his head was clearing. He was in Sara's apartment. He had come to talk to her. Things were still a little fuzzy. He started earlier.  
  
He had fled the house that morning with a bag packed and a vague plan of getting a hotel room or staying at the flat his father kept on the top floor of the Vorschlag building. It had been days since he had slept, restlessness and nightmares making it impossible. The Estate, his home as long as he could remember, was cold and uncomfortable, too full of memories, both good and bad. Even the dogs had been unable to comfort him and the three live-in staff who had been with his father for years just made him feel worse, like a failure, in their attempts to comfort him. He needed to get out. he needed to see Sara. He had left the house and called her, spending the day handling a few things by phone that wouldn't wait and walking until it was time to see her. He even dressed and brought flowers. His father would be proud, he thought a little sarcastically.  
  
He had come to see Sara, to offer his help and possibly redeem himself. The headache was fading and he opened his eyes and reached for the tea. "Careful, it's hot," she said. A knock on the door startled him and he tried to rise. "It's ok, it's just dinner. Stay right here, got that?" He nodded in the affirmative- no way to tell her he was just where he longed to be and if the dream had to fade he would take with him what he could. He heard Sara close the door and the smell of food woke him up completely. He tried to remember the last time he had eaten, really eaten. a few days. a week maybe? He gave up. He was being torn out of his dreams by the needs of reality. He took a moment to memorize everything: the scents, feel, and sight of this place, this time; the smile on her face; the playful way she called him bright eyes when she sat beside him and helped him wake up. He would give himself something to replay in his mind on the long nights ahead. "Hey, Nottingham, food's getting cold." He sat up slowly, feeling the floor beneath his feet. Ian noticed his vest and tie over a chair and his shoes beside it. He decided it would be bad form, not to mention bad for his equilibrium to ask. How far had he lost control last night?  
  
"Just a minute, please, I need."  
  
"Second door," she called back, saving him the embarrassment. He rose and half-fled through the door.  
  
A short while later, he splashed a little water on his face and ran his hand through his hair trying to bring it more or less under control before resecuring it. What was he doing? He had broken down in front of Sara last night. told her things that were never talked about outside the house. He had lost control and he was torn between embarrassment at sharing his secrets with her and the hope that her concern had given him. Duty and obligation fought for control. He looked at himself in the mirror. "Who are you? What are you?" he asked his image. Did I fail or did I win? Looking into his own heart he realized the decision had been made long ago, even before he had watched Sara kill his father. It had been made when he first swore to protect her. Besides, the man who ordered him to kill her, who tried to kill her himself, was not the same man, the same father, who had raised him, taught him to protect her. Irons was dead, nothing would bring him back, but Sara was very much alive. "I'm sorry, Father, I can no more kill her for you now than I could kill her for you then. I will live up to my oath and protect her- that is all that I can do for you now." His decision made, he finished drying his hands and walked out to face the consequences of his choice. 


	3. Disclaimer

Disclaimer-I own nothing except the characters no one recognizes, knows or wants. Sara Pezzini, Ian Nottingham and all the rest belong to Top Cow et al... I am merely taking them out to play a little in my sandbox. 


	4. Part 2A little light dinner conversation

Connections  
  
Part Two - A Little Light Dinner Conversation  
  
Sara paid the deliveryman and took the boxes from him. She set them on the coffee table and lit some candles against the coming evening. Keep it calm and relaxed she thought, he is probably going to be embarrassed enough by last night. I don't think he has ever had someone to just talk to, tell secrets to. She was about to go after Ian when he appeared, walking into the living room with his vest and tie over his arm as if about to leave. He seemed just a little more relaxed, some of the tension was gone and he was more or less rested. "Hey, Nottingham, put those down and get some dinner, then we can talk." She ignored this obvious attempt to leave, determined that after all of that, he was not going anywhere without an explanation, without letting her in on what he wanted in the first place. Sara handed him a plate and pointed to the boxes, acting as if things were perfectly normal, as if last night's conversation had never happened.  
  
"Certainly, Sara, whatever you wish." Some of his formality had returned and she was unsure how to take that. He sat down on the opposite side of the couch trying to act casually, as if this was an everyday occurrence, wishing he could just enjoy the moment of peace between them.  
  
"You better take those off," Sara said, pointing to his gloves. He removed them, moving his ring back onto his hand. He took a slice of pizza and gave a cautious bite. His stomach took over from there. Three more pieces later Sara laughed. "Easy, Boy, you are going to make yourself sick. When was your last real meal?" She was enjoying the sight of his elegant if slightly rumpled figure sitting on her couch doing something so normal as eating pizza.  
  
"Actually, I have been trying to remember myself." he told her, smiling a little shyly at her.  
  
"The same time you got some sleep?" she asked.  
  
"Probably."  
  
'Then do me a favor and at least slow down." Ian nodded. It was nice to have her treat him like a person, not some kind of freak, especially after last night, after she knew so much about him. He relaxed a little bit more, just enjoying her company. She got up and went into the kitchen and his eyes followed her. She grabbed a couple of bottles of water and tossed one to him, he caught it and drank most of it in one swallow. She shrugged and threw him the other one, getting a new one for herself.  
  
"Sara, I wanted to thank you for last night, for your help," he started, not sure what else to say.  
  
"You needed help. I was here."  
  
"I just... I told you things, things that."  
  
"Ian, listen, what you said to me last night stays there, just between you and me. We both have secrets, some of them we share. I guess just now we are all we can trust." She turned back to her dinner trying to keep them both from embarrassment. This situation had gotten out of control and she was not sure how to react. She didn't want to embarrass him. hell, she wished she could forget some of what she had learned last night. It would be a lot easier. Ian was startled by her candor; she seemed to actually accept him. He wanted to reach out, tell her how much her words meant to him, but too many years of training held him back. He didn't know how. And always overall, the fear that she would suddenly change her mind, reject him. He couldn't let that happen now.  
  
They sat and ate, letting the quiet settle in, each in their own thoughts. Sara finished her third slice of pizza, and looked up to catch his quick glance at the box. He had finished his, all of it, and was watching her eat. She smiled; well at least his appetite seems to be recovering. "Go for it." She told him.  
  
"I'm sorry?" he asked.  
  
"You're still hungry, have some of mine." He gave her a questioning look, and she nodded to reassure him. "Are you always this hungry?"  
  
"Well, not in the last few days, but yes, usually." Sara shook her head.  
  
"Amazing, you must have been hell to feed as a teenager."  
  
"So I have been told." A quick flash of humor as they both ignored the brush with last night's conversation.  
  
"Ian, how old are you?"  
  
"I'm thirty. why do you ask?"  
  
"Just another in the long list of things I don't know about you." "You have a list?" he asked, that rarely seen playful tone in his voice for just a moment. "Actually," he continued more slowly, "I didn't think you cared to know."  
  
"Yeah, well, until last night I didn't. But I think I have changed my mind." She looked down, the conversation had gotten serious again and she was unsure what to say next. She phrased the sentence very carefully. "Ian. last night I found out a lot about your father and a lot about your upbringing, your memories. But even after all that I know very little about you. I just have pieces, but I think that I want to know more. I think that it is important somehow." Sara looked at him cautiously, afraid that after that he would bolt. He just sat there quietly for a moment looking down, gathering his thoughts.  
  
"I would like that," he said softly.  
  
Sara looked down and gathered the boxes and plates, filling the silence with activity.  
  
"Can I help?" Ian asked.  
  
"Don't worry, there's not much to do."  
  
As Sara went into the kitchen, Ian stepped into the other room to wash his hands. They were both thinking very hard, trying to figure out what to say to each other now. In a brief moment everything had changed again and neither knew quite how to go on.  
  
By the time Sara came back and sat down on the couch, Ian had returned. She noticed that he had put his gloves back on.  
  
"Why?" she asked him, before she could stop herself.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why do you still wear them?" It saddened her, enraged her to see him still trapped by his fathers' rules. But she had no way to explain it to him that he would understand.  
  
"Because, Sara, I don't know how not to," he answered simply. "They have become a part of who I am."  
  
"No. They are a part of who you were." She was fighting to control her temper, knowing that he was not the man she was furious with, and that he wouldn't understand. It frustrated the hell out of her, she had always had a soft spot for wounded children and kicked dogs, and Nottingham, well in his own way he was both. How could she possibly explain that what she wanted more than anything at this exact moment was to bring his father back from beyond the grave so that she could kill him deliberately this time? "Now, you decide who you are, who you want to be." She looked up at him. The tension had risen again, and she was almost sorry she had started this. Almost. She wondered if he would respond or if he would he duck.  
  
"And who is that exactly?" he asked, half-pleading. "Irons wanted me as the perfect extension of his will, and you?" He looked her in the eyes. "What about you, Sara, you who are the only one left to me? You want me to cast off the habits of a lifetime to become. what? Who am I to you, Sara? What do you want me to be?" There was no malice, no anger in his words, although they shocked her deeply. "I made the decision and now I have no idea how to go about it." He looked at her, sad, frustrated, lost. all she could think about was comforting him, a strange enough thought in its own way. Slowly she held out her arms, wondering if he would leave, not real sure what to do if he accepted. She wondered how long it had been since anyone but Irons had even tried to touch him.  
  
After years of rigid discipline it was hard to reach out. He was trying desperately to keep control. Slowly, awkwardly, he leaned forward into her arms. He was rigid, stiff.She held him gently, waiting for him to relax, afraid that he couldn't, wondering what to do if he tried to break away. She leaned closer, letting him rest his cheek against her hair. They sat like that for a long moment before he began to relax a little against her. He reached out, shaking a little, and put his arms around her, desperately craving the comfort she offered.  
  
She shifted and looked up at him. "It is not up to me to decide that, it's up to you. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to push you. I wish I could understand, but I don't, and I can't explain it to you. No frame of reference. You are also asking me to accept a lot, and I am just as confused as you are. Nothing makes sense right now." He tightened his hold on her, afraid of his own reaction. He wanted to run, to stay. Kindness was shattering in its own way, when you had no experience, no blueprint for how to react to it. Trying as hard as he could not to ruin this-all that he had left to keep him in this life-he needed to quiet his mind and just enjoy this moment. the care she was showing him, the feel of her close to him. He forced himself to relax a little more, to accept anything that she offered.  
  
Sara's mind was whirling like a carnival ride. She felt Ian relax against her and tried to figure out at exactly what point she had lost control of this situation. how she found herself holding the most confusing man she had ever met in her arms. Between life and death struggles, she either wanted to kill him, or run from him. Now she was just holding him as both their worlds fell apart and discovering that she actually cared for him. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his shoulder; surprised and pleased when he didn't flinch away. She had to admit, if only to herself, that it felt good to be this close to him. She wondered if he felt the same sense of safety, as if this were all very familiar somehow. After all he was someone who could help her with this thing, the Witchblade, which had taken over her life. Someone who could watch her back when no one else could and understand what she was going through. Everything hung on his decision, whatever that was. Had he come here originally to help her or to tell her she was on her own? The only thing she was sure of was that he was not here to avenge his father, to kill her. I'm sure he still feels the obligation that Irons instilled in him. If he makes the offer, should I accept? I won't be responsible for him. Overall, I think I would prefer it if he helps me because he really wants to.  
  
She slipped her foot out from under her to ease her back and slid a little closer to him. "Ian." she said quietly. Her voice came from so close it startled him a little, but he did not let go, determined to hold on for as long as she would let him. "What was the decision?" She shifted in his arms so that she could look up at him, sure that he would break away from her, not sure she wanted him to. He raised his head and looked at her. So close, I could almost.He shut that thought down immediately.  
  
"I'm sorry?" he asked, like someone waking up from a dream.  
  
"You said you made a decision. What was it? Or do you want to tell me?"  
  
"Two purposes, two desires," he said simply. "Irons is dead, you are not. I will stand by you, as much and as close as you will allow me. Help you as much as I can." He waited to see how she would react, half-expecting her usual sarcasm to emerge.  
  
"Are you doing this for him or for me?" she asked.  
  
"Both. and for myself." She smiled, accepting that as the best of all possible answers. Maybe there was some hope for him. Maybe he would be able to break out of the box he had been kept a more-or-less willing prisoner in for so long. She held him for a little while longer, then gave him a gentle squeeze and let go slowly.  
  
"In that case we really need to talk." She put her hand on his arm reassuringly and he gave her a sweet, shy smile.  
  
"I would stay close to you forever." Deadly, loyal, shy, sweet. God, I'm learning an awful lot about Ian Nottingham in a short time. A lot more than I ever thought I would want to know.  
  
"Yes, but you have to go home some time, if nothing else for fresh clothes, maybe a shower."  
  
"Actually I have a bag in the car." She blinked at him.  
  
"You wha-?" realizing that she might have the wrong idea, he stopped her mid-word.  
  
"Sara, I would never presume so much," he told her, a touch hurt. "After all that has happened, the house has become. uncomfortable. Right now I just can't stay there. I am going to stay at the office, or get a hotel room. I need to get away for a little while."  
  
"So, basically, you ran away from home." He nodded. Sara closed her eyes, trying to get a handle on this newest twist. She thought about it for a moment, and without making a conscious decision, heard herself tell him to go get his bag. If anything, Ian was more stunned than she was. She sighed. "Ian, it's late, and we still have a lot to talk about. If you stay here, there is at least a 50/50 chance of us both getting some sleep." Her tone reassured him that the offer was sincere and fresh clothes sounded really good. He thanked her as he rose and went out.  
  
Sara just sat on the couch. Unlike everything else at this exact moment, it was solid, real, normal, and uninclined to confuse her. She put a hand over her eyes for a moment and was intensely annoyed when the phone rang. She thought about letting the machine take it, but changed her mind. Ian would be back at any moment and they did not need more distractions. "Pezzini, this had better be good," she said abruptly.  
  
"Easy, Partner, just me. How was the date?" Danny said, unable to resist teasing her a little.  
  
"Still here, and since when do you call at 11:00 on a Saturday night-my night off-to inquire about my love life?" she returned acerbically.  
  
"Since Lee reminded me that I was supposed to ask you over for tomorrow night and I forgot."  
  
"O.k., good reason. Tell her thanks and I'll take a rain check, alright?"  
  
"I'm sure that you can bring your new friend," he said suggestively.  
  
"No, that's all right, but another time, o.k.?  
  
"Sure, but I expect all the details on Monday."  
  
"Yeah, and I expect the precinct to produce drinkable coffee," she told him as she heard Ian enter and lock the door. "I'll see you Monday, got to go. O.k.?"  
  
"Sure. You want me to pick you up?"  
  
"Fine, later." She hung up the phone and turned to Ian. "Would you like to clean up first and then talk or the other way around?" Ian looked down at his rumpled shirt with distaste, wondering how he possibly could have let her see him like this and not even noticed. He stopped, thinking a little ruefully how much like his father that thought was, a man who always believed in showing a perfect front to the world, impeccable dress as much armor as any knight's of old. Sara watched him, smiling inwardly. He actually forgot, she thought, registering his sudden discomfort. "You know where the shower is, we can talk afterward."  
  
"Certainly," he said, suddenly itching to be clean. He took his bag and headed toward the bathroom. Sara rose as she heard the door close. Might as well get changed herself. She wandered towards the closet and pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms and the tee shirt that she usually slept in. Somewhere at the back of her mind it occurred to her that it might be nice to have something a little more.. She pushed the thought back to where it came from, a little confused. Down, Pezzini, he's only here to talk and besides.That was when she noticed the clean towels. on the wrong side of the door. She grabbed a couple and knocked, hoping to catch him before he got too far along.  
  
"Hey, Ian, forgot the towels." He opened the door and took them from her, not even noticing her pole-axed look in his haste.  
  
"Thank you," he said as he closed the door. Sara let her breath out slowly, wondering why she was only just now noticing exactly how handsome he could be. With his hair free and his shirt undone, he was not the least bit hard on the eyes. She changed and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. Got to get a grip. I need to get out more. Oh, well, when in doubt make tea. She put on the kettle and sat down to wait for him.  
  
Ian stepped into the hot shower and relaxed a little. Of all the sanctuary he could have found, he had never pictured Sara's apartment as his place to hide, maybe to heal a little. Why was she doing this? He tried to look for motives, but unlike his father, Sara was showing him that not everyone needed them.that the world was not as simple, as black and white, as it might appear. And he trusted her. It was hard to admit in some ways, even to himself. Happiness, pleasure, emotions long banished beneath duty and loyalty were resurfacing in force. It had been a long time. when had happiness ceased to matter, buried beneath doing a good job, pleasing his father? Perhaps it is time to rediscover what it meant. what it means.to be happy? He turned off the shower and stepped out.  
  
When he returned, he was comfortably dressed in a black sweater and sweat pants, his hair loose, and his gloves and ring in their places. He sat down next to Sara a little self-consciously. She smiled encouragingly, but the smile froze at the sight of his gloves. She tried not to let her distaste show, but he saw and his gaze dropped. Slowly, without looking at her, he removed his ring and gloves, placing the gloves on the table between them and returning the ring to his hand. Sara thought for a moment, wondering how to respond to the gesture. Looking down, she caught sight of the 'blade on her wrist. She removed the bracelet and placed it on top of the gloves. Ian looked at her, surprised. "Now, it's just you and me," she told him. He flashed her one of his rare smiles.  
  
"Put aside duty and obligation for a moment?" he asked.  
  
"Something like that." They sat in silence until the whistle of the kettle startled them both. "Tea?" Sara asked, trying to act like this was normal, just a visit from a friend. Friend? At what point had Ian changed into a friend? But that he was, or at least that was part of it.  
  
"Yes, thank you," he answered. While she busied herself in the kitchen, he glanced around the room. For the first time, he registered the familiarity of the pistol and harness on the end table on her side of the couch. It is mine. I was carrying it last night. how did I forgot it? That was a dangerous slip. he chided himself. He had registered its presence earlier, but this was the first time he had recognized it. or missed it, for that matter. He was becoming sloppy. And how did it end up on the table? "Sara." he asked uncomfortably as she returned and set the tea mugs down. "How." He pointed in the direction of the table. He took a second to phrase the question as she followed his gesture, recognizing a sudden change in his manner. She realized what he was trying to ask, but let him get the question out, giving her a few more moments to figure out what to say. "I don't remember disarming myself," he said finally. "How did you get it off of me?"  
  
Sara considered and discarded several replies before settling for the absolute truth. "Ian, you were in a very. confused. frame of mind last night. You were grieving and exhausted and I was a little concerned about you. I couldn't let you go to sleep wearing it, and besides, I didn't want you waking up in a strange place armed." She shrugged. "It's the cop in me. Before I put you to bed, I took it off of you."  
  
"That was.kind of you, Sara, although it was not necessarily the safest thing to do. I swear I would never have knowingly hurt you. You believe that don't you?" He gave her a pleading look.  
  
"I was never afraid of that," she said, realizing as soon as the words were out that she really meant them. That shook her. Suddenly a flash of Ian, kneeling with a Katana held before him. Take the cause out of the man; there is no cause for a man. "But there was another possibility." She looked at him until guiltily, he lowered his eyes for a moment.  
  
"I had thought about it. that's when I left the house." he admitted. "But I never would have done so in your house." He raised his eyes to find her looking back at him challengingly.  
  
"No, you would have crawled off like a wounded wolf, and I wouldn't have found out until it crossed my desk. That actually bothers me."  
  
"No, Sara, you would know." He pointed to the Witchblade.  
  
"And that would be better. knowing and being unable to do anything about it?" she said sarcastically. "Besides, I can't always see the things I need to when I need to."  
  
"I can show you, it's.a part of our connection. Besides, the time for that has passed anyway. I would not leave you now, not alone, with no one to help you, to protect you."  
  
"I don't need your protection, although I appreciate the offer. What I do need is your help. Are you willing to do that? To help teach me to control this thing?"  
  
"I came here last night to do just that, to offer you whatever I could, whatever you would take from me. I have lived with it all my life. My Father was obsessed with the Witchblade, with its power."  
  
"Yeah, I got that part, but what do you mean about our connection?"  
  
"When he first possessed the Witchblade, he tried to wield it himself. He could only keep it on a few moments, but in that time he bonded with it on some level. It burned the scar into his hand, and changed him. The only things he took from the encounter were the ability to see some of your visions, and a certain telepathic link. The ability to locate you, talk to you, he could even know what you feeling in some ways. I inherited those abilities. I am not sure whether that is just the contact or something to do with some of the things I underwent through his experiments that strengthened it. I am.I was connected to both of you," he saw the look of shock and anger flash across her face and hastened to explain. "I have not used it except to find you, to know that you were not in danger. It can be blocked. He taught me as a child how to block him out as he did to me. You can learn to do the same although I imagine we could still find each other. It is much stronger between us, especially now." he trailed off realizing that she was still trying to get her head around the initial information while he was spilling out words like a faucet, trying to get it all out before she changed directions again and got angry with him.  
  
It was probably the longest single speech she had ever heard him make, barring the other night and he had not really been himself then. Irons and the Witchblade? That explained a lot. But the rest of this was enough to really make her head hurt. Sara had never been one to believe in all that mumbo jumbo, but now with the things that she had seen...it made sense in some ways. But she was not sure she wanted to believe, not sure she didn't either, certainly there were advantages.  
  
"So that's how you've been able to find me, follow me without being seen. Pity it doesn't work on others."  
  
"Not that I am aware." he said, a little disappointed that she went so quickly to the practical applications.  
  
"And you're aware of my presence, even if you can't see me?" she asked.  
  
"And you of mine, although you are not consciously aware of that. Not yet."  
  
"You will show me?" She was trying to focus on too many things at once. She needed to get back to the information she needed but there seemed to always be more that she did not know. Just when she had picked up one piece, she discovered that it was in fact twenty more. "But not now," she said firmly, "Now we are going to get back to where we were," she said, trying to get things into perspective. "Look, Ian there is so much you have to tell me, and I know we can't do it all in one night, but I can't just keep getting side tracked. All of this is important, but I can't get my mind around it all at once."  
  
"Everything is connected. But I understand why it is not easy. I have had a lifetime to accept what you have only begun to be aware of. I have been trained since my childhood for the moment that you would emerge and bond with the Witchblade.  
  
"Did you know that it would be me?" she asked "That I would be chosen?"  
  
"Yes, that is why I was there, at the museum that day."  
  
"How long had you known?" Ian looked down, embarrassed by the admissions he knew he would now have to make, wishing he could lie to her or at least not admit everything, afraid that she would turn away from him if he did. "Ian, please, I need to know, and now." She reached out for him, sensing his conflict. "I know this is hard, for both of us. You have things to tell me, and I have to accept things about my life that I never wanted, never knew."  
  
"You don't know.the things I have done for Mr. Irons, for my Father. It is not easy."  
  
"Ian, just for tonight, it's just you and me, not a cop and a.whatever. Any crime you admit in connection with the Witchblade, I will ignore. This is more important and a lot of it no one else can know anyway, not that they would believe it if we told them."  
  
"That is not what I am worried about Sara. I was not expected to be concerned about such things, about what others would think. But I am. I am worried about what you will think of me, what it will do to our.friendship?" He said, looking for a word to describe what was coming to be between them, less than what he wanted, more than he what dreamed.  
  
"Don't worry about that, not now. I understand you've done things you are not anxious to tell me about. Look at me, I'm not proud of some of the things I've done since I got this thing. I killed your father, even though he." She stopped, the scene flashing through her mind as it had done frequently in the days that followed, the sight, sound and feel of the blade sinking in, sinking through. The words, always his voice, the words that she did and did not understand at the same time. She shook her head to clear it.  
  
His turn to comfort her, he didn't know what to do. He reached out his hand to her, shaking a little. She saw him reach out and knowing what it took for him to make the gesture, she took it in hers. His hand was smooth, lacking the usual calluses and very strong although he held hers tentatively, almost as if he were afraid he would hurt her. He squeezed her hand gently, reassuring her. "I didn't mean." she began.  
  
"It's over, we have no reason to relive it again, ever," he told her, just a hint of steel in the last word, giving her the out that she would not allow him. She was shocked that he could do this for her, and she wished she could give him that option, but she needed to know too badly. His hand felt good in hers, giving him as much comfort as she got.  
  
"Now, let's get this over with. I really need to know." she said, pulling herself back together, but not releasing his hand.  
  
"Mr. Irons has a book, a book of prophecy which foretold that the Witchblade would be taken up that day, so he put it on display at the museum, somewhere you would have access. He sent me to watch over it and you, to make sure that you.bonded." He took a moment and tried to get his thoughts and feelings in order, again. She distracted him and he needed to focus, now more than ever since she had allowed him the opportunity. He had thought a great deal about this conversation, what to say and how to say it. She wanted direct answers to direct questions, or thought she did. It was not how he was raised, Irons being the master of word games. He took a deep breath and continued. "After the explosion, we were not sure what you remembered, what you would be willing to accept. So he had me continue to watch and he tried to force a conflict. When you failed to take the bait at the Rialto, he was furious.  
  
"The Rialto, what has that got to do with anything? It was a set up."  
  
"It was a gift." Ian corrected gently. "Mr. Gallo had been trying to buy it for some time. Mr. Irons had me arrange for him to be there that day. You were supposed to kill him."  
  
"God, why couldn't the man just send flowers? You have a twisted idea of gift giving, the two of you." She gave him a confused look. "Why did he want me to do that? I knew there was something wrong."  
  
"To bond with the Witchblade, to lead you to him for the information he possessed, to control you and it through you. There are few blood heirs to the Witchblade, Sara. He believed that you were the one to be chosen." He ducked his head again, not really sure how to continue, what to tell her and how much. He wanted to tell her everything, to give it all to her, but some secrets were not his to tell. He looked up, she was still sitting there, watching him, holding his hand.  
  
"Why me, Ian?"  
  
"The WitchBlade chooses Sara, usually a blood heir, although not always. You come from that bloodline. It is your destiny."  
  
"Destiny, I am getting a little tired of hearing about my destiny. My mother never heard of the thing. How could something like that be forgotten?" She asked a bit sharply. He considered carefully his answer, balancing her need to know with her impatience.  
  
"She would not have. The Witchblade has been out of play for over 40 years. And for hundreds of years before that, it was in the possession of those who did not want it to choose a wielder unless they could control her."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"First, the Vatican who took it from Joan after her capture and only let it out upon occasion, with a woman handpicked by them to further their goals, then by Hitler, in trade for protection during the war. He was fascinated by objects of power, even ones he could not control. It was stolen from him by one of his staff as a gift for his mistress."  
  
"And sometime after that Kenneth Irons got a hold of it," she asked trying to hurry the story along.  
  
"Something like that. Ian answered quietly. Sara sensed there was more to the story than that but decided that was a story for another time. Besides, she realized, there was probably a lot more than she could get in one night, even if they talked until dawn, which was starting to look like a possibility.  
  
"So, Irons tried to set me up to kill Gallo and got pissed when I didn't, then what?" She brought him back to the more recent past firmly.  
  
"I.I wanted to bring you to him, let him see you. He sent me to retrieve it from you but." He looked down at her hand.  
  
"And that is when you met me at my car." She realized that this was getting harder for him. She wondered if she should push him, decided she would do it anyway, and deal with the consequences later. "I thought you wanted me to go see him, that's what you asked me to do at any rate."  
  
"I wanted him to see you, to release me from my order to retrieve it, to give you a chance to prove yourself."  
  
"To prove what?" she asked, startled and a little annoyed, although she immediately tried to hide it. Ian tried to let go of her hand, but she held on tightly.  
  
"That you are the true wielder and should not be. interfered with."  
  
"So, you set me up too?" she said, with a cold calm.  
  
"Sara, I was disturbed, confused. I did not know what to do when everything I had been taught began to conflict." He brought her hand closer to his chest, almost closing in on himself. "Don't you understand? I could not hurt you and I could not refuse his order. He wanted me to kill you or at least take your hand and I couldn't. All I wanted was for you to show him, or at least resist long enough for him to realize it on his own. I did not foresee what he would do, how far he would go." He looked up at her. "I could do nothing."  
  
"I understand, now. But at the time I didn't. You took a lot on faith," she told him.  
  
"I have a lot of faith, in you." He raised her hand and cautiously kissed it, trembling internally at his own boldness. Sara blinked in shock but was touched by both his words and actions, more than she really wanted to be, and a little embarrassed.  
  
"OK. Thanks" she said confused, not really knowing what to say.  
  
"Let me finish, please, I may never be able to do this again."  
  
"Let's finish it then, Christina Wayles."  
  
"She.My Father was.they had an arrangement," he said finally not able to look at Sara, distaste, disgust and something like embarrassment meeting in those few confused words.  
"What kind of arrangement?" she asked cautiously.  
  
"They were.they had. She." He gave up, trying to find a way to explain something that both shamed and repulsed him so deeply.  
  
"What?" she said, frustrated and puzzled, trying to figure out what his was trying to say. What could they have possibly been doing that had Nottingham so tongue-tied? A thought struck her from left field and she tried to see where it fit in. Her eyes widened and she shook her head a little to clear it. "Lovers? Is that is? Was that how he was trying to control her?" She broke out. Ian ducked his head almost down to his chest. If she didn't know better she was swear Ian Nottingham was blushing. "That's what you were trying to say isn't it? That is what she meant by killing Gorda being a favor for a friend, another set up."  
  
"I would not have chosen that word but, yes." His muffled voice came to her from where he was looking at the floor, wishing that she had not insisted on the whole story.  
  
"Alright, but I am sure she wasn't the first, I mean Irons did not have the reputation for being a monk." She said not completely sure what was bothering him so much about the situation.  
  
"But she was a Whore!" He said vehemently. Both is words and his anger shocked her. It was the first time she had seen him that mad, certainly the first time she had heard him swear. Cold anger from him did not surprise her but the heat in his voice did. Probably not the first time there either she thought to herself, would have thought he would have better taste though. "And he meant to use that to replace You!" His voice was quieter, but still angry. Suddenly his behavior at the warehouse became crystal clear, his orders, his duty plus his distaste for Christina must have made the situation practically unbearable.  
  
"And so you tried to get yourself killed, or to get me to kill you." He started to say something but she held up her hand. :"Don't.." She reviewed the situation in her mind, putting the pieces together. "And what about Danny?" she asked her voice suddenly gone dangerously quiet. "Who's idea was it to bury my Partner alive?"  
  
"Christina's, although Irons knew, approved." He told her, trying to keep his voice calm. Ian continued quickly his voice thick with urgency "He meant nothing to me but what he meant to you. If I had refused, someone else would have been found and I would not have been able to protect either of you. Your partner was supposed to die in the Rialto; we have all had the vision. But I knew you could save him given time." Sara sighed, frustration and anger fighting with the realization that yelling at him would only cause him to shut down and maybe lose the chance to learn more. She bit her lip to keep all the sharp comments inside.  
  
"I know you didn't give the order. I knew that much in the church. I just wish you hadn't been involved at all." Sara was trying to put it all together in her head, here was a man who had just admitted to trying to kill her partner to save him?  
  
"I told you, Sara, that I had done things in my Father's service that you can't forgive, and that I can't ask you to. Perhaps I should just go." Ian's world had gone completely black in the space of that one admission. Despair threatened to choke him as he got out the words that he was sure would severe their ties forever. She looked on as his expression changed. His shoulders slumped and as he started to rise she peered up at him. He looked as if his world had ended. She shook her head as a small voice in the back of her head whispered to her. He had done only what he thought was necessary. You owe him that much. This is important, the connection is important, for you, for him. She tried to ignore it but it wouldn't go away. The image of him with the katana, the things he had said, all spun around in her head. Christina, Irons, was it any wonder he was afraid to have a straight talk with her, especially considering some of what she had said before.  
  
"Ian, wait." She said finally. He looked down at her a small spark of hope coming to life. "I.I understand that you did what you felt you had to do. It is hard for me to accept it, but since Danny survived, I think I can live with it. I think I have to."  
  
"Are you sure? Maybe it would be easier." He left it open-ended.  
  
"Yes, it would be easier, but I'm not sure that it would be right. Damn it, Nottingham, we have made a start on something here, I don't know what but it is very important, I think, to both of us. Am I wrong?"  
  
"You know you are the most important thing in my life." He told her, hope in his look.  
  
"Me, or that?" she pointed to the bracelet, where it sat innocently on the table.  
  
"You, and my responsibility to you because of it." He told her.  
  
"Then please sit back down, you're hurting my neck." She said a bit abruptly, trying to get this thing back on a more practical and less emotional footing. Ian sat down suddenly, trying not to let his relief show on his face.  
  
"Do you want me to stay for you or because of what I know?" He asked her, challenging her quietly, not really sure he wanted the answer, but it seemed a night for honesty.  
  
"Right now, both, I think, I'm not sure, but I am willing to find out."  
  
"Thank you, Sara, you give me hope, more than I deserve." He told her, smiling.  
  
"Yeah, well, we'll see, won't we?" They sat together quietly, drinking now cold tea, each locked in their own thoughts. Trying not to stare, Ian glanced around the room, down at his empty cup and back over at Sara. So much he wanted to tell her, but he did not know what to say or how to say it. So many things she needed to know. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but she did not need to be burdened with that right now. They had come too far for him to throw it away for something as unimportant as his own feelings. Emotions are to be controlled, not to control, Irons voice echoed hollowly in the back of his mind. But that was then, Sara was not like that, she was real, emotional, elemental even. He pushed the whole thing back down into the back of his mind to concentrate on the now.  
  
"Hey, Nottingham," Sara said lightly, trying to ease the tension. She cast about, looking for an easy subject.  
  
"Hey, Sara," he answered, the playfulness in his voice belying the conflict in his feelings.  
  
"What do you do for fun? Besides lurking, I mean?"  
  
"Lurking? Watching your back is fun, Sara."  
  
Sara laughed and took a playful swing at him, which he blocked easily, glad to see things relax between them. Maybe it would be all right after all. Sara considered the risk about mid-swing, but decided it was worth it. After all, he hadn't hurt her yet.  
  
"I'm serious. What do you do to enjoy yourself?"  
  
"I've never had a lot of time for fun. I suppose sparring, reading."  
  
"You like to read?" she burst out and then was embarrassed by it.  
  
"Yes, I like to read," he said, looking a little hurt.  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. You're just very. active. It's hard for me to picture you sitting quietly, reading."  
  
"The same could be said for you, Sara." He returned, gesturing pointedly to her bookshelves, stuffed to near bursting with books and technical manuals.  
  
"Point made. Insufficient evidence."  
  
"Oh, I'm a case now?" He smiled.  
  
"Well, I am a detective," she said archly. "So, you like to read. What other guilty pleasures do you have?"  
  
He ignored several things that came to mind. "Music. I used to like to listen to music. When I was young, my father played the piano. He was very good."  
  
"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."  
  
"Which, that I like music, or that he played the piano?"  
  
"Either, really. So, classical music, reading, and sparring. is that all? Oh, and following me. Not a very full life."  
  
"It has kept me busy so far. Besides, I do have a job."  
  
"So do I. You still need to get out more," she said, shaking her head.  
  
"Are you offering?" he asked curiously.  
  
"Yes, I think I am. Make a deal with you." Ian looked at her, surprise and pleasure fighting for control of his face. "What is that?" he asked.  
  
"I'll show you how the other half lives, you help me with the Witchblade."  
  
"I was going to do that anyway, Sara. There is no need.."  
  
"Please, I want to." She cut in. "Besides, it could be fun. And it saves you following me."  
  
"All right, whatever you wish."  
  
Sara rolled her eyes at him. "And you have to stop saying things like that."  
  
"Why, when it's how I feel?"  
  
"Because. just don't, o.k.? This is going to be difficult enough, especially if you keep disappearing or looking at the floor every time I raise my voice. In case you haven't noticed, I have a temper."  
  
"Yes, I have,"  
  
"I go off on people without really thinking about it. If we are trying to put something together, some kind of friendship here, you have to promise me that you won't keep trying to run away." He looked at her, startled that she had seen the conflict that he had been trying so hard to hide.  
  
"I will try, I don't know." He stopped and looked at her, not sure how to say what was on his mind, to tell her that the only thing that had kept him sitting there was the fact that he had no where to go and that he did not want to be alone right now.  
  
"Or at least if you do, don't go too far?"  
  
"Whatever you. all right," he said, thinking how hard this was going to be. She had no way of telling him that it reminded her too much of his attitude towards Irons. He did not need to be more uncomfortable, just when they were starting to get comfortable together.  
  
"Now, it's late. We should probably get some sleep," she said, rising, trying to figure out what to do with him. She couldn't leave him on the couch, he was just too tall, he wouldn't fit with anything like comfort. She could take the couch, but she realized on second thought that he was too wrapped up in that whole chivalry thing to let her do so without it turning into a fight and she was just too tired for that right now. She took a deep breath. She took a deep breath. The safest and easiest place was in the bed, it was big enough, and with his over sensitivity to human contact it was not like she had to worry about him getting fresh. Not that she would necessarily.Whoa, girl, what are you thinking there, get your mind right, this is Nottingham, she reminded herself sharply. "O.K, Ian, you're going to have to sleep in the bed." She watched as he ducked his head, trying to hide his expression. She wondered what he was thinking, what expression he was hiding under the fall of his hair. She smiled a little at his discomfort, but since she didn't have a better plan she figured it would just have to do.  
  
"But, Sara, I can't turn you out of your own bed again. I can sleep on the couch," he said, his voice catching a little.  
  
"You didn't and you aren't. You can't sleep on the couch, you won't fit."  
  
Ian looked stunned. "I thought it was a dream." His thoughts were completely shattered. He dimly recalled from deep in exhaustion Sara's voice, saying she would protect him. This could not be happening. Dream and nightmare collided in severe internal panic as Ian struggled to find an answer. "I can sleep on the floor, it would be inappropriate to." trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.  
  
"Look, my house, my rules. Besides, I don't want to trip over you in the middle of the night. I'm not exactly used to you being here, I don't want to have any problems if either of us wake up confused." She continued more smoothly, trying not to make him any more nervous. "Ian, we're both adults. Exhausted adults. Your virtue is perfectly safe with me. And I trust you to be a gentleman."  
  
Ian took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had cut off all his objections with that one statement. What could he possibly say to that? Trapped, he rose and followed her, resigned to a long sleepless night of abject heaven and hell.  
  
"Left or right?" She broke into his thoughts, not giving him time to object.  
  
"What? I'm sorry?"  
  
"Do you want the left or the right side of the bed?" She was trying to treat the situation as casually as she could.  
  
"Wherever you want me."  
  
She raised an eyebrow, wondering if he were joking or not. "Fine, left," she told him, going into the bathroom and closing the door. Ian got up slowly and walked to the bed, in a daze. He sat down on the side and removed his shoes and socks. A night alone with Sara, his fondest desire and she had no idea of what she was asking. He closed his eyes, trying to calm his mind and reassert his control. As Sara returned from the bathroom and slipped beneath the sheets, she glanced at Ian. "Are you going to lay down? I promise, I don't bite."  
  
Ian laid down on top of the bed, not even attempting to get under the blankets. Sara looked at him curiously, shrugged, and rolled over on her side, away from him. "'Night, Nottingham," she said, as she turned out the light.  
  
"Good night, Sara," he said very quietly. Ian lay on his back in the dark for a long time, listening to Sara breathe, hearing her slowly fall asleep, her breath evening to a slow rhythm. He could feel the warmth, the presence of her through the blankets. He thought about getting out of the bed, of spending the night on couch or floor, but he knew she would be hurt, and was not sure that he could return before she woke up. Besides, he rationalized to himself; his movement might wake her up. 


	5. Part 2B

Sara slept deeply, but her dreams made her restless. As she tossed in her sleep, she disturbed Ian from his thoughts. He watched, as she seemed to fight out her demons in her dreams. He did not know what to do, what he should do. Finally, moving very slowly, he slid beneath the bedcovers and carefully slipped his arms around her, trying very hard not to think about how it felt. She settled down almost immediately, so deep in sleep she didn't even notice, but he didn't release her. He told himself that he was afraid that her dreams would return, although he knew that that was only part of it. He held her quietly, listening to her breathe. Slowly, without awareness, he slipped into a dreamless sleep, warmed and comforted by her.  
  
Sara woke slowly, feeling warm and safe. Comfortable arms held her tightly, and she leaned back, drowsy. Suddenly, her eyes opened and she gazed down at the hands crossed over her. They were pale, sensitive hands that had not seen the light of day for many years. Here first reaction was to push away, to yell at him for invading her space even more than she had let him. Before that thought was even finished, another, how would he react. Anyway, she was too tired and it was too early for her to start a fight with him. It's not like she really minded, when she thought about it, she was just surprised. It was probably just some weird protective instinct, but after last nights little roller coaster ride it just seemed like they could probably both use the comfort. Interesting that even in sleep, his arms crossed over her, his bare hands were not even touching her. Strange though, when she fell asleep, he had been hugging the other side of the bed like a drowning man, not even willing to get under the covers.  
  
She thought about getting free, but was not sure about the safety in waking him suddenly. She was sure that he wouldn't hurt her, not consciously, but trained as he was. She studied his hands, seeing the tan line that marked where his gloves usually fell, the edge of a tattoo showing above his sweater cuff. Somehow, it seemed so unlike him, a tattoo. Maybe it was teenage rebellion? She leaned back against him, enjoying his warmth and the comfortable feeling. He confused her. She knew there was a lot more to him than what she saw, what she knew. The thoughts were making her restless.. This was all too much to think about before coffee. She wondered how much longer he would sleep. If this was another sixteen hour one, she was in trouble. She shifted carefully in his arms, so she could look at him. His body was completely still in sleep, as though making up for his restlessness awake. Only his face was relaxed, dark eyes closed, lips slightly parted. He is something else she thought. I just wish I knew what. He stirred restlessly in his sleep, pulling her closer. She let him, figuring this was the first sign of returning consciousness.  
  
Ian came to suddenly, opening his eyes for the second time to find Sara watching him. But this time, he felt his own arms around her, her resting against his chest.  
  
"Morning," she said softly. He wanted to release her, to bolt in sheer embarrassment. How could he possibly have let her catch him like this? But she seemed calm, and he didn't really want to let her go. "I didn't want to wake you. I wasn't sure how you would react."  
  
"Probably best. While I can feel your presence, reflex actions are hard to break out of." He realized how tightly he was holding her and loosened his grip a little, giving her the chance to break free if she wanted to, expecting her to pull back immediately. Instead she lay there, studying his face for a moment. He kept his breathing rigidly controlled, not wanting her to see how her closeness disturbed him.  
  
"Last night when I fell asleep, you were on the other side of the bed. I was a little surprised to wake up so close to you." Ian looked embarrassed and started to move away from her.  
  
"You were having a bad dream. I just wanted to help you," he said quietly. "I'm sorry if I did something wrong, something to break your trust."  
  
"You didn't. I was just surprised to wake up and not find you on the floor." She said, lightly, teasing him a little, trying to get him to relax a little. He seemed more than a little uncomfortable and she resisted the temptation to tease him further.  
  
"I thought about it," he admitted. "But I decided I did not want to risk your anger when you tripped over me," he said with one of those lightening flashes of humor. "Besides, I didn't want my movement to wake you up." And I could not resist being so close to you, no matter how painful, he added silently to himself.  
  
"Well, right now I need some breakfast. How about you?" she said, turning the subject as she got up. He drew back from her and sat up as well.  
  
"Yes, please. Can I help?" he asked as she stretched a little.  
  
"Can you cook?" she asked incredulously.  
  
"No, but I'm sure that there is something I can do," he said as he rose, cat-like, from the bed.  
  
Sara yawned and ran her fingers through her hair. "All right, just give me a minute." She walked into the bathroom. Ian took a few deep breaths and began to stretch a little. Two days of relative inactivity were making his muscles knot. He slid smoothly into a kata he used to wake up. Focusing completely on what he was doing, trying to calm his racing mind, he failed to hear Sara emerge. She stood in the doorway, fascinated, not wanting to disturb him. His motions were smooth, fluid, like ink on water. God, he's beautiful. He came to the end and stopped. "That was incredible," she said from behind him. He turned and looked at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to disturb you."  
  
"I'm afraid I needed to stretch. I've been a bit too inactive the last couple of days," he said apologetically.  
  
"No, believe me, I understand. I haven't gotten out, myself."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be. Some things are a little more important." A thought struck her. "After breakfast, I have to go out. Would you like to come with me?" she asked as she crossed the room, heading for the kitchen.  
  
Ian followed her. "Certainly. Where are we going?"  
  
"After breakfast," she said. "And after coffee."  
  
Sitting at the table sometime later, empty breakfast dishes spread out over the surface, they shared a companionable silence, finishing their drinks. After all that had happened in the last couple of days, it still hit her hard to see her tall, dark, and deadly stalker sitting calmly eating scrambled eggs and toast at her table, and after spending the night in his arms. She still couldn't believe that he had done that, or how good it had felt to be close to him. Watching him stretch had raised her pulse more than she cared to think about. She contemplated her surprise, sure that he would be happy to be doing something again. She wondered how many pleasant surprises he had ever gotten. It was strange but considering what she now knew about him, she was really anxious to find out more. "You finished, Nottingham?" she asked, rising to clear the table.  
  
"Yes, Sara. And curious about where we are going."  
  
"Dishes first, surprise afterwards. Now, hand me those plates." Ian handed her the rest of the dishes and watched as she set the kitchen in order. It was nice to sit here and watch her, without having to be out in the weather. It was even better to be here because she wanted him to be. It made his heart lurch every time he thought about it, her letting him into her life, even a little bit. And then last night. he pushed those thoughts away again, although the effort was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. He took a moment to pull himself together as Sara finally finished her tasks. "Now, Ian, get yourself something you can move in."  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
"To fix both of our laziness problems," she said simply, and went behind the screen to get some clothes. Ian, intrigued, grabbed a few things from his bag and headed off into the bathroom. When he returned, he had changed and pinned his hair into a tight bun at the back of his head. He walked into the living area and pulled his gloves on. He thought for a moment, then added the wraps from his bag, pretty sure what she had in mind, in general if not specific. Sara came out in sweatpants and an NYPD sweat jacket, carrying a small bag. "Ready?" she asked him, as she grabbed the Witchblade off the table and slid it onto her wrist. Noticing that the gloves were missing, she glanced down at his hands but said nothing. After all, it was cold outside, and besides, he needed time. He was right, she was pushing, but it offended her so deeply to see him isolated by his father, even after the man was dead. On the other hand, it was probably best if he took his time. She grabbed her jacket and he grabbed his topcoat as they left the apartment.  
  
Down on the street, Ian tried to guess where they were going. He gave up and simply followed her, taking time to enjoy walking with her in the wintry chill. Sunday is a quiet day on the streets of New York and they made good time. Ian recognized the route. They turned and entered the basement gym where Sara worked out. Nothing fancy for her, just a gritty, gray space with a ring, mats and some equipment, Spartan and practical. He had been there a couple of times, following her, watching her.  
  
"Surprise." She said. "We could both use the exercise." Ian noticed they were alone except for the janitor in the corner, an older man with long reddish blonde hair. He thought that he had seen him before somewhere, but immediately dismissed the thought. Must have been here the last time he followed Sara. The janitor nodded politely at them and disappeared into the back of the building.  
  
Ian shrugged off his topcoat pulled off his sweater, and replaced the gloves with wraps from his pockets. He had a black tee shirt on with no sleeves. Sara shook her head and almost thought about asking if he owned anything that wasn't black, but decided against it. "I'll take those." She grabbed his things and headed off in another direction. "Have fun," she called back over her shoulder.  
  
When Ian finally emerged from his workout, he noticed Sara padded up, taking her time on the heavy bag. He walked over to watch her, enjoying her in motion. "Feeling better, Nottingham?" she said breathlessly, as she gave the bag a final punch. Ian picked up some pads and moved to stand near her. "Yes, I am." He held up the pads, and she took a few practice swings at them. "Not bad, Sara, but you need to hit a little harder," he said with a smile. Sara threw another couple of combinations at him, increasing force and speed. Ian shrugged. She backed off and came at him again, giving him all she could, the last one rocking him back just a little. "Better," he said. She rolled her eyes at him. "Sara, you will frequently be fighting opponents who are bigger and stronger. You need to push harder."  
  
"Been doing all right on my own so far. I was trying to go easy on you, Nottingham. You want to put those down and go a few falls?"  
  
"I don't particularly box, Sara," he told her.  
  
"No holds barred, any style," she challenged him.  
  
"I don't want to hurt you," he said, intrigued by the idea.  
  
"Worry about yourself." She took a last focused punch at him, rocking him back again.  
  
He sighed a little, realizing he wasn't going to change her mind. Besides, it could be educational for both of them. "All right, Sara, I'm sure it will be interesting."  
  
"You're on, Nottingham." She took off her gloves and put them down, as Nottingham dropped the pads on the table. As they settled into a corner of the mat, Sara waited for him to come at her, but he merely stood there. "Well, I'm waiting."  
  
"Patience, Sara." He began circling her, slowly. Ian feinted right, and Sara moved to block, as he backed away. He tried again, moving to her left, then changing directions at the last moment. Sara shifted, narrowly blocking the blow. He retreated again, and she followed. He took a swing which she ducked easily, coming in for a jab at his ribs. As his knee came up to block, she grabbed him under his leg and threw him to the mat. She dropped quickly to her knees, to try to keep him down, but lightening-fast, his leg came up and hooked her behind the neck. As he pulled, she rolled with it, landing on her back, with her neck under his knee and her feet facing his head. She spun quickly, slipping her head free. As she regained her feet, he was once again up, backing away from her. "That was good, Sara, but you need to be faster. If this were real, I would have snapped your neck."  
  
"Yeah, I got that. Let's go again," she said, shaking it off. They went a few more passes, while Sara tried to determine his style, figure out where he was coming from. He made another pass. This time she feinted and let him go around her. She turned quickly, aiming a kick at the back of his knees as he went past. Ian went down, grabbing her ankle and pulling her with him. She landed on the back of his legs as he rolled. Pushing past her, he rolled over onto the mat. She came at him this time. Ducking his arm, she came inside his guard, pushing him from the shoulder. He spun around and caught her off-side, taking her to the ground beneath him. She hit the mat with a sharp exhale, sweating hard.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked, shifting his weight onto his arms.  
  
"Yeah, just lost my breath for a minute," she said.  
  
"Are you sure you want to continue?"  
  
"Yes, I do. This is fun. We should do this more often," she said from the mat underneath him.  
  
"Sara, I'll gladly teach you all that I can, but I can't do it in one day. I've had years of training, you have to catch up in a short time."  
  
"I'm not exactly helpless, you know," she said, a little irritated at him, not to mention her current position. "Besides, when did this turn into a training session? I thought we were here to have fun."  
  
"We are having fun and I know you aren't, Sara. But I just couldn't stand to lose you." Impulsively, he leaned down and kissed her. Sara was stunned, both by the statement and the kiss, stunned, but pleased at the same time. It felt good and it wasn't just a side effect of the game. She began to return the kiss enthusiastically, sliding one hand up onto his shoulder. Ian was shocked, by his own boldness, by the kiss, which she seemed to be returning, and the feeling was overwhelming.  
  
Suddenly, they both heard the door bang open. Ian jumped to his feet, turning, the look on his face changing to calculation and wariness for a second before registering that there was no danger. Sara held out her hand to him to help her up. When he lifted her to her feet, his hands were shaking. She leaned close to him. "I think we should continue this at home. I'll be right back. Don't move."  
  
Ian, too busy trying to regain his scattered wits to say anything, nodded. She went to get their things, leaving him standing bemused in the middle of the gym. He'd taken advantage of the moment and she hadn't rejected him. His world had gone from despair to hope in a matter of days, leaving him reeling in shock. But he had lost control and he didn't know where to go from here. He had a deep fear that something would happen, that he would do something wrong. Besides, after years of conditioning and control, his emotions were breaking free with more force than he really knew how to handle. What if he hurt her? What if she simply wanted to let him down easily? What if she didn't and then he had to take the next step? What if there were something buried in his programming that he didn't know about? And how could he explain it to her without her thinking him some kind of freak? He didn't think he could stand to have her look at him like that again. The questions were chasing themselves around in his head, but one thing he knew, at least she still wanted him to come with her, for now.  
  
Sara went into the back to the lockers and grabbed a towel out of her bag. Damn, of all the things she was thinking about this morning, ending up pinned to the mat, locked in a very intense kiss with Ian Nottingham was not any of them. She put her sweat jacket on and tried to iron this out, afraid to leave him alone too long. The red rose he gave her the other night made a whole lot of sense, now. But what was she supposed to do with him? Every time he made a small move forward he almost immediately backed off. One thing was certain, they were both attracted to each other, and pretty intensely at that, if she was any judge. The Witchblade had warmed on her wrist while they were fighting and even more so while they were kissing. It didn't make a lot of sense, but somehow kissing him felt good, it felt right and that troubled her a little too. This was Nottingham, he was supposed to make cryptic comments, threaten her, not come into her life, her home and stir up her feeling like this. The look in his eyes, though, when he kissed her made her heart race more than anyone ever had. The thoughts were spinning in her head almost to the point of making her physically dizzy. He was obviously confused and Sara figured that she better have a plan, even if she was just as confused. How to fit this together.  
  
Sara emerged with their things, handing him his coat and sweater. He was standing there looking guarded and uncertain. She smiled reassuringly at him, as he pulled the sweater on over his tee shirt and exchanged his wraps for gloves. "Ian, it's o.k. Really. We'll talk when we get home." It must have been what he wanted to hear. He looked at her cautiously, as if he didn't dare to believe her. "Really, come on, let's go." He grabbed his coat and walked with Sara out into the gray winter sunshine.  
  
As they hit the street Sara reached for his arm, placing her hand on it very gently, just enough to let him know she was beside him. As they walked in silence, Sara wondered what had changed her feelings towards him. What had taken him from potentially dangerous enemy to ally, friend, and maybe something more. Not that she really understood her feelings for him. He was many things; dangerous, mysterious, cryptic, kind, uncertain, and strangely gentle. The attraction between them was a surprise but then why should it be? She should have seen it before now. he had a lot of information, but it was something more than just hormones and data that was happening. She wasn't sure she was ready to name it to herself, much less him. He was obviously having trouble with things as it was, this was going to take one hell of a balancing act. She pushed it all away and just enjoyed the walk. She was halfway home before she remembered the groceries.  
  
"We need to stop. Need groceries." She told him breaking the silence between them reluctantly.  
  
"Now?" he said, startled.  
  
"Yes, now, otherwise I have no groceries and you have no dinner."  
  
"Pizza? You could let me buy dinner," he said, torn but anxious to be home with her. It was strange that while the thought of the conversation frightened him more than he could possibly imagine, the fact that she was willing was thrilling, freeing in a way. He did not know what would come of it, but in spite of his mistake, she had not pushed him away.  
  
"I still need to get food. It's easier if I don't have to do it while I'm working."  
  
"Very well, I just thought that you wanted to talk." He felt a little thrill, home, she called it, as if he had the right to claim a small part of it. He was nervous, confused, but at the same time he wanted to know what was happening.  
  
"And we will, after the store," she said. She continued playfully, "this is new, so far I have had to drag things out of you. Especially the personal stuff."  
  
"Maybe now I have something that is worth talking about? I have never been required to talk about myself often. It is a new experience for me." He smiled at her. It was getting easier.  
  
"That may be but we still have to eat." The sudden change in him was a little disconcerting but it beat him disappearing suddenly, which had been her initial fear. "Now, what do you like?"  
  
"Whatever you want." Sara gazed up at the heavens, asking for strength. They went into the grocery store.  
  
When they came out, Sara had enough food to feed an army, or at least one hungry man. Not sure how long he was staying, she had figured on stocking up a little, the budget not being conducive to take out. Ian had insisting on paying for them, since she had fed him and she had no good reason to object. They carried the bags back to her apartment and Sara set to putting up the groceries while Ian watched her, anxiously. He wanted to talk but he was nervous at the same time. He did not know what to say or how to say it. How much he could really tell her, in spite of what she already knew, it was still hard to admit to things. He knew how he felt, that was all, but did not know if that was enough, or even if he could or should tell her. It would be so much easier to let it slip by.  
  
Sara finished putting away the groceries reluctantly. They needed to talk about this but now that they were here alone, it was hard to know where to start. She turned to find Ian watching her, standing by the counter as if he did not know what to do with himself. That makes two of us. She grabbed a couple of bottles of water and threw one to him. "Ian, why don't you take a seat." She took off her sweat jacket and threw it over the chair. She thought longingly of a shower, but was not sure about putting this off longer. Give the man an out, she thought, although in all fairness she had to add, Or me either.  
  
Ian sat down on the couch, putting a little space between them. How did he discuss feelings that were so new to him? He thought about Sara, so different from anyone else, the only one to reach out for him. He was confused by her. What was it that made it so much easier to get close to her when they were in conflict or when she was unconscious? Rejection? But she hadn't yet. He understood physical attraction in theory, although his father had always put it in context of control. Using it as a tool to control others, protecting yourself from control. But Irons had always been the ultimate control, and now he was gone.  
  
Always remember, the less emotional attachments you have, the less vulnerable you'll be. Isolation is safety, virginity is invulnerability.his fathers' voice echoed harsh in his ears. He was wrong. If anything his connection, his love for Sara made him stronger, more sure of himself. It gave him a cause again. That was something Kenneth Irons had never wanted him to understand. The difference, he realized, was in himself. His father had in many ways wanted him to remain a child, a servant, always dependent on him for his only emotional contact. He offered his chains to Sara and she simply ignored them, refused to admit they even existed. She treated him as an equal, a man. She was the first person in a long time that had actually asked about him as if he had the right to have a life outside his role as Kenneth Irons' shadow. How to start, to explain so that she would understand what he barely understood himself?  
  
Sara watched Ian lost to his thoughts and decided she could sneak a quick shower. Let him get his head together and give her time to figure out what to say, what to do. Yes, they were attracted to each other, but was that a complication that either of them needed, especially at this point? And could they really do anything about it? She walked into the bathroom and closed the door. There was a lot more there, but at a certain level they needed each other, and this could make things difficult at best. And what did he want anyway? "Ok," she said to herself, lets think about this rationally. "He is a nice enough guy, intelligent, charming, and god those eyes. Whoa, hang on, this is Nottingham, he is dangerous, he has more emotional issues than anyone else on the planet." Except you, the voice in the back of her head reminded her. And he is strong enough, good enough to protect himself. He won't die on you. He is the one person who can understand. This is completely new for him, but he is willing to risk everything for you. He needs you. Do you have the courage to try, to face someone who is strong enough to be your equal, to help him? She pushed her thoughts away as she grabbed her shower and threw on some clean clothes. Returning, she found Ian still gazing into space. She smiled, he had not even noticed she had gone, so lost was he in his own mind. "Ian, where are you?" Her voice cut into his thoughts. He noticed she had showered and changed while he sat there alone in his own inner conflict.  
  
"In a reverie?" he said, unsure how to explain. "Waiting for you."  
  
"You looked like you could use a few moments, I know I did," she told him as she sat down on the other end of the couch. This was becoming familiar; they had established a pattern, her on one end, him on the other. It would have been comfortable except for the conversation that hung over them. So easy to push it away, not deal with it now. But they both knew it would not go away.  
  
"Sara," Ian began slowly, "I had no intention of burdening you with my feelings. It is inappropriate and I should never have been so discourteous." His formality had returned and that saddened her a bit.  
  
"Stop it," she said impatiently, a little annoyed that he was trying to push it off. "Ian, it happened. All you did was kiss me, and while I'm sure it would be easier to put it down to the heat of the moment, I think we both know better. Are you saying you are sorry? That you didn't mean it?"  
  
"No, I would never do that. I'm not. I just did not want to push myself on you. I don't want to ruin everything we have worked for. You know I would never do anything."  
  
"I know this is difficult, I'm not the best at this emotional stuff myself. It is obvious that there is something between us and in case you hadn't noticed, I wasn't exactly objecting."  
  
"How could you, I did not give you the chance. Instead I just blundered in. I love you, Sara, and I can't seem to do anything about it." He told her "And I don't think I really want to, but I don't want to risk what I already have." His outburst startled him. His brown eyes were dark with pain, and confusion. Sara wanted to do something, to reach out, but she knew at this exact moment it would be a bad idea, he needed to say what was on his mind and he was holding it together by a real thin thread. One more push and he would probably be out the window and out of her life, and the one thing she was sure of was that was not what she wanted. "I know I should go, but I am afraid, to go.to stay.to face you..." he paused, looking at her intensely. "I can't remember ever really fearing anything before."  
  
"Don't go," she said quietly. He looked away and then back, his eyes had a trapped look and as much as she wanted to help him, she knew that she was part of that trap. "That would accomplish exactly nothing. Listen, I know that this is not anything you were prepared for, Irons saw to that. I wasn't either. In the last few days I have learned more about you than I ever thought I would. I know that I am starting to feel something for you, I enjoy your company and you are a really attractive guy, but there is something more going on. I am just not really ready to put a name to it. I wish I could give you what you want, but I can't. This is new to me too. I have never had anything like this to happen, and certainly not this fast." His heart fell into his shoes and he looked down, not sure he wanted to hear the rest, wishing he had never started this. She reached out and touched his face, turned him to look at her. "I'm not sure, not yet. I want us to be friends, allies and well, I don't know what else." His eyes met hers, hope returning a little light to them. "Not yet, not until I'm sure myself. Anything else would be unfair to you. But I won't say no. We just have to take things as they come." She leaned forward and kissed him gently, much different from the kiss he gave her earlier. Ian was stunned, her kiss sending his mind soaring. He pulled back suddenly, afraid of where this could lead, what could happen. It would be so easy to make a mistake and have her angry at him once again. His eyes were dark, intense and filled with emotion.  
  
"That's the first time I have ever gotten that reaction," she said lightly, trying once again to figure out what was going on in his head, to resist being embarrassed or angry. She was not exactly sure herself what made her do it, except that she was running on instinct, and it had seemed right. He told her he loved her, and then when she kissed him, he backed off again. Stood to reason, she supposed, isolation making contact hard to take especially under these circumstances.  
  
"I." he started, trying to put his thoughts back in order. Not wanting her to get the wrong idea, he took a deep breath and reached out a slightly shaking hand to touch her face. She flinched away when leather touched skin. In an instant he realized his error and pulled off his ring and gloves angrily, and threw them in the direction of the table. Sara recovered quickly, embarrassed by her reaction, knowing what it had cost him to reach out. She took his bare hand in hers and lifted it. His fingers accidentally strayed over the Witchblade.  
  
The vision hit her hard, causing them both to react; she fell back against the arm of the couch, as Ian grabbed her to keep her from falling.  
  
Images flashed through her mind: Ian in armor being torn from her arms as they dragged her away. The two of them embracing passionately in a strange room before a fire, dressed in strange clothes. Ian fighting at her back in a pitched battle, rallying forces around a banner she tried to keep upright. Taking a sword stroke meant for her, while guarding her back. Sacrificing his life for her in a modern warehouse while she watched, unable to do anything.  
  
Sara came back to herself on the couch, Ian kneeling beside her on the floor. She looked into his eyes, seeing his concern. "You knew, didn't you?" she asked hoarsely. Ian handed her the water from the table. She took it and drank. He did not answer, nor meet her eyes. "Didn't you?" she asked more strongly.  
  
"I had dreams." he said simply.  
  
"But you knew we were even more connected than you said. And you didn't tell me," she said, hurt in her voice.  
  
"I wanted you to come to me for myself, not for what we had been to each other in the past. I thought you might feel.obligated. I didn't want that. Besides there was no good way to explain it, not and have you believe me." Reassured that he was sincere, she reached out to touch his face.  
  
"I guess the Witchblade insisted. It wants us to be together."  
  
"Yes, but what do you want?" he asked, looking up at her, hope and fear mixing in his face. Everything was out in the open and all he could think of was what he would do if she turned away from him. Sara was not comfortable with mystical connections, with anything that she did not understand, now he hung on her every word, afraid to hope that she would see him for what he wanted to be.  
  
"To get to know you better, to see where this is going. I haven't changed my mind you know. I was already very attracted to you and now that I know more, know how you feel." she said quietly.  
  
"Sara, don't make any promises, please. Not until you know your own heart. I do not want to ruin everything for something as unimportant as this," he told her, talking to himself as much as to her, although the effort was costing him a great deal.  
  
"Ian, your feelings are not unimportant, what kind of heartless bitch do you think I am?" Her words startled him and he looked up to see the fire in her eyes. "If you want to live a normal life, to try to sort out what you want, then you have got to stop that." She shook her head at him, stopping suddenly when the pain in her head told her that it was a bad idea.  
  
"I want you," he said softly, almost too low for her to hear. "As much or as little as you are willing to give."  
  
"Don't put this all off on me. I am not going to be responsible for you. It is has got to be all or nothing. What do you want?" her voice was a little loud in her own ears and it was making the pain in her head worse.  
  
I want to be with you." There was strength in his voice this time, conviction.  
  
"Better, I don't know what to say to that except that I think we should try." She could see his concern, like he was still working out what he had just committed to. He was becoming much easier for her to read. She wondered if it was him that was changing or if she were just becoming more aware.  
  
"Don't worry, Nottingham," she said playfully, trying to take the pressure off him, ease the tension a little. "We have time." The promise in her words made him look up at her, see that she was smiling softly at him. He was spinning inside with pent-up emotion, but his heart wanted to explode. He felt that he had won the world, to believe that she would at least not reject him now. He was in a haze and all the time Sara lay so close he felt that he could reach out and touch her and know she would not turn away.  
  
Sara was still trying to put her own head back together. The vision had been intense. Her feelings for Ian were clarifying, although she was still not ready to commit to anything, not yet anyway, especially till she worked out what was going on in her head. She had always been a little leery of emotional involvement, and entanglements that involved the Witchblade and past lives were a little much to take right now. And Ian.well she wasn't completely sure he knew what a normal relationship was and Irons had not necessarily set the best example. It would be so easy to hurt him, he was completely vulnerable and she didn't want that hanging over her. Ian loved her, of that she was sure, ever since he had said it she could since it, like a wall going down, connected. But was he ready for all that was involved? Hell, the first fight would probably send him into hiding. She did not even know if he had ever.well, there was no good way to ask and with the isolation Irons had forced on him, she doubted he had ever had a physical relationship with anyone. Certainly would explain some of his reactions, the things he had told her. How on earth Irons had managed to keep the women off him, and keep him under control like that was beyond her. He was beautiful and completely unaware of it. Damn, what was she going to do with him. A few thoughts followed that one that she really was not up to dwelling on at that moment. God, last night must have been hell for him And I was just oblivious. Good going, Pezzini, you can be so clueless sometimes.. She almost wished she had thought it through more. Oh, well, he seemed to have survived, thrived a little even. That kiss was certainly more ballsy than I would have expected. All this was compounding the headache that had accompanied the really intense vision. She started to sit up, but dizziness forced her back down.  
  
"Are you all right?" Ian asked concerned, wanting to check for himself, but thinking that might be a bit too invasive, considering.  
  
"Aspirin, please.cabinet in the kitchen over the coffee maker," she asked. He rose quickly and brought them back to her. She took the aspirin and laid back. "I'll be better soon," she reassured him.  
  
"You need to sleep." He reached down and lifted her into his arms, determined for once that she would do what was necessary without him having to argue with her.  
  
"What the. where.." She struggled against him weakly.  
  
"I'm taking you to bed," he said, determined . "I thought you wanted to wait," she said, some of her sarcasm returning, assuring him that she would in fact be all right.  
  
"To sleep." He told her firmly as he put her down in the bed.  
  
"Alright, then. A nap, but don't let me sleep too long," she told him as sleepiness begin to cloud her thoughts.  
  
"It's all right, Sara. I'll be right here," he whispered.  
  
"Ian, stay." The last words she managed as she dozed off. 


	6. Part 3Hugging, Kissing and Other Violenc...

Connections  
  
Part Three - Hugging, Kissing and other Violence  
  
When Sara woke up an hour later, her headache was gone and Ian was watching her. He was sitting in a chair beside the bed, keeping watch as she slept. She wondered how many times he had watched her sleep when she was not aware of him. He had showered while she was out and his damp hair was pulled back into its accustomed ponytail. Pity about that, she really liked him with his hair free. "What time is it?" she asked him, stretching lazily under the quilt he must have thrown over her. It was nice to wake up and find him there, she thought, amazed at how easily she had accepted the new situation, as if it was right somehow, his presence here.  
  
"It's after 4 o'clock, you've been out for over an hour." He smiled, enjoying the sight of her there, close enough for comfort but still far enough away. He seemed more relaxed, although he had retrieved his heavy ring and wore it once more on his right ring finger. Got to remember to ask him about that, she thought.  
  
"I should get up, think about making dinner." She didn't move though, feeling a little too comfortable. She knew she should move, but laying here watching Ian was nice in its own way. What did you do with a man who was dangerous, sexy, confusing, gorgeous, and who loved you?  
  
"I think you should sleep longer," Ian told her.  
  
"Oh, are you going to make dinner?" she teased him.  
  
"I would love to if I knew how," he answered her. "Somehow it never seemed a necessary skill before."  
  
"Not even in the military?"  
  
"I don't think that a dozen methods of making MRE's edible qualifies," he told her with a little smile.  
  
"Ugh, remind me not to ask you to cook again, ever." She sat up slowly.  
  
"But I can call for take out."  
  
"We can't live on take out, besides I have to actually use the food we bought. So fortunately for you, it was a necessary skill in my house. It's not gourmet, and probably not up to what you have gotten used to but after the military, I'm sure you'll survive." She rose and headed for the kitchen, Ian following behind her.  
  
"I am sure that I will enjoy anything that you prepare." Sara tried not to roll her eyes at him, after all he actually meant all that gallant stuff.  
  
He sat and watched her as she prepared dinner, reminding him a little of his childhood when he sat and watched Cook in the large Irons kitchen. The thought of her making dinner for him was just too much for him. It seemed to be going so smoothly, he wondered what would happen next, what disaster would take her away from him. How could he have succeeded merely by opening up to her? His father would be shocked to say the least. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if Irons had lived. As much as he missed him, he felt that he never would have been able to do this, to break away if his father was still around. No man can serve two masters and as much as he cared for his father, he knew Sara was his life.  
  
Dinner finished and the kitchen cleaned up, they sat down on the couch together. He was a fast learner and even gave her a hand with the dishes. God, it was nice to meet a man without the usual hang-ups and bad habits, what a change. No, she reminded herself, just a slew of different hang-ups far beyond anything I am used to dealing with. But he seems to be adjusting. It was certainly easier to be together, to just be in the same room. "I have work tomorrow. What about you?" she asked, making a little light conversation as they let dinner settle. She had other things she needed to discuss with him, but they would wait. For now she was just feeling mellow. Over dinner they had discussed books and music. She had been unsurprised that his taste ran to classical in both, although the scope of his knowledge had impressed her. Whatever else could be said about Irons, Ian was well educated and quite articulate, charming even. Although some of that charm was just enough like Irons to make her a little edgy. But in him at least it didn't scare her.  
  
"Business. Checking some things and dealing with my Father's.departure." Oops, she thought, immediately casting about for a new topic, asking the first thing that came to her mind.  
  
"What's with the ring? I don't think I have ever seen you without it." Ian looked down at the heavy silver ring that he had not been without for more than a few moments since he had first put it on. He turned it around his finger reflexively.  
  
"My Father gave it to me, when he made me swear my oath to protect you. It was a symbol, a pledge between us." Damn, wrong again. She just could not seem to find a safe topic tonight. She really just wanted a quiet evening and discussing Irons was not a part of that. Ian saw her expression change, her posture tense a little. "Sara, we can't avoid talking about him completely. It does not bother me. It should not bother you," he said, trying to alleviate some of her discomfort.  
  
"I know we can't, it's just that some of the things that he did to you really piss me off. The fact that they don't seem to bother you doesn't really help. You can't see it the way I do because you don't have any other experience to draw on," she told him, trying desperately to explain. She had seen so many children who had been abused but never someone who had gone through what Ian had. "I have just seen too many things that parents have done to their children, too much abuse, to be really comfortable with him. I just don't understand how you can still love him, be so forgiving."  
  
"Is that how you see him? Someone who abused a child, made him different? Is it just sympathy that you feel for me?" he asked, his voice quiet, the lack of emotion speaking of a much deeper hurt.  
  
"No, Ian, that's not it at all," she said, exasperated and concerned. "It's just that. I know you saw him differently, but you had to. I'm having a little trouble accepting it is all," she tried to reassure him.  
  
"Sara, I know that some of the things I told you the other night bother you, that you can't understand. I will only ever see your father through your eyes, will you give mine the same courtesy? Try to understand the part of him that I loved, that I still love, in spite of everything. Certainly there are things that hurt, make me angry. Every time I have to make an effort just to touch your hand, I am angry. But that won't change anything. I really believe he did the best he knew how and he was all that I had, all I ever knew. All I can do now is go on. Can you accept it for me?" he asked.  
  
"I will try my best. It's not going to be easy, none of this is going to be easy. What we are trying to do is pretty difficult to begin with. We are trying to start some kind of relationship that could easily end with us both getting hurt. I don't want that. Whatever happens between us it is going to be hard work, it's not going to just happen, as much as we may want it to. This is just the beginning. Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked, her mistakes highlighting the small fear that had been growing in the back of her mind all evening.  
  
"Yes," he told her quietly. "I really do."  
  
"Then I guess we'll both try for each other." She offered him a smile and leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. He sat still and let her. "That's another thing. I don't know how to help you with it, but if we are going to be together." she left it hanging between them.  
  
"I want to be close to you, but I am afraid. I don't want to hurt you, my reflexes." he told her, sadness and shame in his voice.  
  
"No, you won't." Sara reassured him. "We just have to take this slowly, one step at a time." She looked at him, raised his chin to make him look at her. "All right?"  
  
"All right," he said slowly. Trapped in his own fears, he had tried to retreat into himself, but she would not let him. In fact she dragged him back to her, a little closer every time. It amazed him, touched him in a way that he could not explain, in a way for which he really had no words.  
  
"Now..."  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"Ice cream," she said, hitting on an idea, something to take the pressure off, relax both of them. He gave her a confused look, trying to put the statement into the conversation and failing miserably. "I thought we would go and get ice cream," she told him. "I believe I did promise to show you how the rest of the world does things." Sara got off the couch and grabbed her coat while he was still trying to get things into perspective. "Are you coming?" Ian jumped up quickly, grabbing his gloves and topcoat and joining her. When they reached the street, there was a fair amount of traffic. He hesitated briefly, and then offered Sara his arm. She smiled up at him, proud, enjoying the change. As she slid her arm through his, he relaxed, refusing to tense up. He tried to keep his mind clear, watching the people around them, letting her lead the way. How strange to walk down the street with Sara on his arm, almost like a normal life, he supposed.  
  
Sara gave him a little sideways look as they started down the street. He was subtly studying the people around him, reflexively looking for trouble even though he was probably not even aware of it. He was a strange man, but somehow he made her feel better, like they were a team or something. Two days ago she had been nervous about talking to him alone, now she was contemplating doing a whole lot more with this strange, handsome man who had fallen into her life like glass breaking, shattering everything that she was used to, everything that she was sure of in her everyday world. She wasn't sure exactly what had changed but it had been pretty drastic and now she had to figure out where to go from here. But for the moment she would settle for ice cream and walking down the street with him next to her instead of hiding somewhere behind her. 


	7. Part 3 B

They cut through an alley and came out on the next street. Together they walked into an ice cream shop halfway down the block.  
  
"Hey, Pezzini, what's up?" called the middle-aged, balding man behind the counter.  
  
"Not, much, Joe. Give me a couple of cones, double chocolate, for me and my friend."  
  
"Got yourself a new guy, Sara?"  
  
"Nah, just keep him around to keep the riff-raff off."  
  
"Hey, Joe Capri." He held out a hand over the counter.  
  
"Ian," he said cautiously, giving him only one name from force of habit. The friendliness of the shop owner was foreign to him, so unlike the obsequiousness that usually accompanied any outings with Mr. Irons.  
  
"Yeah, pleased to meet you. Give me a sec. O.K.?"  
  
"Sure, we'll be in the back," Sara answered. They settled into a booth, in the small seating area, Ian sitting with his back to the kitchen so he could watch the door.  
  
"Hey, Nottingham, lighten up, no one is going to attack us in this place," she said, noticing the way he surveyed the room.  
  
"I am merely being cautious. You never know what direction danger will come from," he told her. "How can you be so casual?"  
  
"This is home ground, my neighborhood. I know the people here, and most of them know I'm a cop."  
  
"I have never been that comfortable around people. Too much training to avoid situations that could prove.hazardous." Joe came out from behind the counter and handed them their ice cream cones. Ian reached for his wallet but Sara stopped him.  
  
"My idea. My treat."  
  
"Sara." he started.  
  
"No. Mine," said Joe, "You and your gentleman enjoy." As he wandered back behind the counter, cutting off any further discussion. They looked at each other and Sara shrugged, attacking her ice cream with obvious pleasure. Ian was making a valiant attempt to copy her and doing a fair job of it. It had been a long time since he had eaten an ice cream cone. It was not a treat his father had approved of, being both messy and hard to eat elegantly. As they finished, Sara looked at him and laughed. Grabbing a napkin, she reached over to dab a bit of ice cream that had gotten into his beard. He caught her hand reflexively and then released it immediately, embarrassed. Sara just continued, trying to ignore it, realizing that it was just another of the adjustments they were asking each other to make. At least no one else was around to see. Ian sat still while she did, her little kindnesses were starting to make an impression on him but his reflexes were still on autopilot. They finished up and left, waving goodbye to Joe as he dealt with the world from behind his counter.  
  
They walked down the street for a bit, peering into shop windows and enjoying the cold evening. The Christmas lights were sparkling in the decorated windows and Sara spared a brief thought to holiday decorating and presents. She wondered what she would be doing at Christmas, and if Ian would be there with her. Did Irons even celebrate Christmas? Different worlds, what did they think they were doing? It was so nice thought, just to walk with him.  
  
They both realized that this would be the last such night for a little while as they returned to work and tried to put together their very different lives. Sara had her arm through his again and the soft touch through his coat was reassuring. They turned around and headed back down the block. As they passed the ice cream shop, Ian noticed four teenagers, trying to be more or less casual as they detached themselves from the wall they were leaning on and followed them.  
  
she heard his voice in her mind. She started just a little, he had told her about this but it was still weird to have it suddenly proven to her. The cop in her suddenly reasserted itself over the weird factor in an instant. She took a subtle look around and followed his eyes. The kids were following them, trying to look cool.  
  
She thought really hard, hoping this worked. Kids must be planning a mugging, couples usually being good targets. She thought about the options, she was a little hyped from the day and Ian always had that coiled spring look to him. Besides, she couldn't just haul them in on suspicion, they hadn't done anything stupid, yet.  
  
His voice still quiet in her head.  
  
She tried again, just trying to let the thoughts go to him. If the kids did anything, they would be able to handle them better than anyone else. Plus having the advantage of working off the ice cream.  
  
She was sure she heard amusement in his tone. She led the way, if they were going to play this, she wanted to have the choice of space.  
  
They turned into the alley that led back to her street, stopping halfway down, next to a large dumpster but with plenty of room to maneuver. Sara leaned close, as if to kiss him. "Let them catch up," she whispered in his ear. "You armed?" she asked as the boys, joined by two more, caught up to them. "No Sara, not really." She nodded and gave him a quick kiss.  
  
"Evening, folks." One of the boys, obviously the leader, moved forward as the other ranged out around them. They turned toward them, Ian sliding Sara slightly behind him, the perfect picture of a gentleman protecting his lady. Sara smiled a little to herself. Poor boys.  
  
She thought to him,, hoping she was getting the hang of this. She added a mental note to herself to continue that little conversation some time real soon.  
  
came that same amused voice in her mind. "Did you want something?" he asked politely, the picture of innocence.  
  
"Yeah, your money, the lady's too, and I'll take that pretty ring you're wearing," the leader said, pulling out a pistol. Ian looked at the gun with obvious amusement. Raven .25, worst made pistol on the planet.  
  
"Don't you think you boys should be getting home?" His voice was still polite, but with an edge to it, a sarcastic smile on his face. "Your mothers will be getting worried."  
  
"You want me to shoot your girlfriend right here? Give me what I asked for." Even in the middle of a mugging, he felt a small thrill at Sara being called his girlfriend. maybe he wouldn't hurt the kid.too badly. Sara, meanwhile, was watching the remaining boys trying to edge closer, two of them pulling knives.  
  
"It wouldn't be a good idea. The City of New York frowns at the shooting of police officers." Ian moved lightning fast, kicking the gun out of the young punk's hand and catching it in his own. He ripped the slide from the gun and dropped the pieces negligently to the ground. "Now then," he said nodding. Sara was keeping an eye on the guys on her right and trying not to laugh.  
  
"Get him," the leader said, backing up a little for range. Ian followed him, closing quickly and taking him to the ground with a punch to the side of the head, as Sara grabbed the guy next to him, launching herself as a player in the game. The Witchblade was sending little jolts of energy up her arm and she looked at her opponent and smiled. Her grip on right arm tightened and whipped him around into his nearest companion flinging them both to the ground on the side of the alley. Ian raised his left arm to block an incoming punch from the side, when the boy behind him ducked under his arm, raking his knife across Ian's ribs, just missing the swing of his coat. Ian brought his left elbow down, trapping arm and knife, wrist out while he flung his original opponent into the side of the dumpster with a sharp clang. He grabbed the knife hand and snapped the kid's wrist, leaving him to fall down, cradling it against his chest. He turned to find Sara directing a last punch at the remaining attacker. The fight had only taken moments but they were both breathing a little harder.  
  
"Now," said Sara, as Ian bent down to make sure the unconscious boy was still breathing. "Since I'm off duty," she flashed her badge at the conscious, battered remnants. "I am going to overlook this, but you had better find a new alley, if you are really set on such a risky line of work. If I catch you here again, the least that will happen is that I will run you in." At that Ian gave a dangerous smile. "Don't make me notice you again." She took Ian's arm and started to walk away. At the end of the alley she turned around. "And you'd better get your friends to the hospital." She called over her shoulder as they continued on towards home.  
  
They walked into the house, both of them hyped on adrenaline and sugar. Sara locked up and turned around into Ian, standing directly behind her at the door. Impulsively, she put her arms around him and kissed him. He moved fast, arms coming around her, pressing her against the cold steel door. The kiss was long and slow, full of emotion long held back and the energy left over from their battle in the alley. They were both safe and alive, the need for reassurance strong. Sara gave herself into the kiss, responding to his need with her own. He held tight to her until she flinched a little, as he pressed the spot where one of the punks had gotten a good shot in. As fast as he had moved towards her, he now backed away in horror, afraid that he had done something wrong, hurt her somehow. "Sara, I'm sorry." She looked at him, dazed and confused by his retreat. He was shaken and looked like he was about to flee out the window if she didn't do something to stop him.  
  
"What.Huh? I took a hit in the alley," she said, slowly realizing what he was talking about. "Ian, you didn't do anything wrong, I just forgot to block back there." She approached him slowly, not wanting to startle him anymore. If she did not find a way to make him understand she was scared he would leave. "It's ok, but we should probably both check for injuries." Her mind was trying feebly to go back to the practical, although parts of her were still stuck on the kiss. She took a deep breath and felt a little catch in her side. Sara pulled off her coat and hung it up. "Ian come on, we need to check each other." Ian was still a little shaken by his actions. Even though he had not actually injured her, the fact that he was reacting to her so strongly was unnerving. He thought he should probably leave, but he could not, would not, not after he had come so far. Maybe he should go see Immo. The doctor would surely know if something was wrong, but could he be trusted. He had always had a soft spot for Ian but would he be willing to help him break his conditioning? Or would he try to reimpose Irons' strictures on him? Where did his loyalties lie? He wanted answers but he would not risk what he had now. Ian was enjoying freedom, especially with Sara. She confused him, treated him like an equal or a child by turns, comforted and aroused him. And she was willing to let him be here, by her side. It still stunned him, especially after all he had done.  
  
"Come on, Ian, get your coat off and let me check you." She tugged a little at his sleeve and he backed away a step.  
  
"I'm fine," he told her, still a little jumpy.  
  
"I'll go first if you like, but take off your coat. I need you to help me here." He took his coat off and followed her into the kitchen where the light was better. Sara pulled her tee shirt off, trying to get a good look at her side. Ian stopped dead, her casual manner doing nothing to slow his already rapid pulse. It was not the first time he had seen her in just a sports bra, but it was the first time he had been this close to her in so little. He locked his thoughts down, trying to think only of tending to her injury and not what it would feel like to touch her. He pulled off his gloves, recalling his first aid training. The angry bruise blooming to life upset him, made him which he had inflicted more damage on their attackers, but he put the thought aside knowing that she wouldn't have been pleased. He reached out and very gently probed the area, reassuring himself that there were no broken bones, each wince making him a little angrier. Finally he looked her in the eyes.  
  
"Nothing appears to be broken, but you are going to hurt a little for a few days. You should put some ice on it. That was probably not the best thing we could have done back there. I should never have allowed it to happen," he told her.  
  
"You didn't allow anything. It was my call and I should not have taken the risk, especially with a civilian along." She said, giving as good as she got. "I was a little hyped and besides, better us than some little old lady." She said by way of explanation. She had to find a way to get a look at him without making him more uneasy. Practicality was warring with her own desire and she could only imagine what was going on in his mind. Maybe she could catch him with his own wards. "I would not have suggested it if I'd known they were stupid enough to fight back. Usually with this kind of thing, they just run. I shouldn't have gotten you involved at all, put you at risk." She told him, trying to get a reaction out of him, something she could use.  
  
"I was never at risk, Sara, not from a few untrained children." Having caught him in his own words she sprang the trap.  
  
"Then let's take a look. Off with the sweater, Nottingham," she said as she grabbed her tee shirt and advanced on him as she slid back into it.  
  
"Really, Sara, I am fine," he said a little panic creeping its way up his spine. He did not want her to see his scars or have to explain them, especially the ones on his back. The others were bad enough, marring his skin here and there, but he had not really ever had to worry about how someone else would react. Some marks she did not need to see, especially after their earlier conversation.  
  
"Nottingham, don't be a baby. I promise I won't hurt you anymore than is necessary. Besides, there's a rip in your sweater that I am certain was not there before." He reached down in the direction of her gaze and realized that she was right. He vaguely remembered a brief sting of pain during the fight and the kid with the knife, but it obviously wasn't much. The thought of taking his shirt off in front of Sara was another thing entirely. There were only two people he had ever taken off his clothes for, besides his time in service, and neither of them were women. Ian was having a hard time processing all this. While he understood intellectually that it would have to happen at some point, that he wanted it too, the reality was a bit much at the moment. He was still churning inside from the kiss and its aftermath, he was not completely sure how to handle things. But from the look in her eyes, she was not giving up, if anything she was more determined than ever. Maybe if he showed her what she asked he could distract her from the rest.  
  
She continued to advance on him and reached for the hem of his sweater. He grabbed her hand gently. "Very well, Sara, but it is nothing." Slowly, he pulled his sweater over his head and shifted so his side was toward her. She took the bait, laying a cool hand on his arm to raise it, get a better look. He shivered a little at her touch but otherwise remained stock still, breathing deeply and trying to focus his mind on anything but the feel of her hand on his skin. Sara herself was trying very hard not to stare and make him more uncomfortable than he already was. It would be way too easy to just reach out and make things happen, but it was not fair to him, and she was really trying not to push, to control him the way he had always been.  
  
"Not bad, looks like the sweater took most of it. Needs a little alcohol, never know where that knife has been." She headed off to the bathroom for the first aid supplies as Ian breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good. She had barely noticed his discomfort, maybe he had just escaped.  
  
Sara grabbed the alcohol and some gauze from the bathroom. She sighed a little, relief that he had not been more injured by her folly. Then there was that kiss that had curled her toes, if kissing him was that intense, she really tried not the think about the rest. But at least he was not badly hurt, she thought, pulling her thoughts back from where they had been wondering. Judging by a few old scars she had seen on his arm and chest, this was nothing. Most had probably been training from the military. They hadn't done anything to damage his beauty, though. She had never known an attractive man so unaware of his charms. But then she had never known another man like Ian before. Don't think there is another like him, she thought.  
  
As she walked back, she noticed the tee shirt he had been wearing earlier thrown over his bag. She grabbed it as well. He would probably be more comfortable with something to put on when she was done. She took the alcohol and cleaned the cut, rejecting it as being too superficial to bother with a bandage and handed him the tee shirt.  
  
"Here, thought you might be more comfortable. "The sweater's a dead loss." she said, poking at the hole, giving him a little privacy. He pulled on the shirt gratefully and then smiled at her.  
  
"I can get a new sweater, but you need to put ice on that bruise."  
  
"All right, I will. Tell me something, though. The rest? Training scars?"  
  
"A few," he admitted. "And the occasional attempt on Mr. Irons' life. They are nothing, really."  
  
"If you say so," she returned, dubiously. She looked up at him and noticed that his hair was coming free from its ponytail and it gave his a sweet, boyish look.  
  
"Sara, you know I have not exactly led a peaceful life. I don't see that changing." Sara looked for something to say, to let him know that she understood.  
  
"That makes two of us. But now at least, it's the two of us together?" She then changed the subject quickly, they had been through more than enough tonight to add philosophy to the list. "By the way, what's with the tattoo?"  
  
"This?" he held his bare arm out to her so she could see. "Black Dragons, brothers in life, brothers in death," he said, pride tinged with sadness. "My military unit. We were together for 3 years. One night we decided to all get it done together," he smiled.  
  
"You see them anymore?" she asked curiously, a little surprised that he was so fond of them. She wasn't used to seeing this side of him.  
  
"No, we went our separate ways. There were.side effects to some of the training. Besides, my father did not encourage me to stay in touch, and some of them were not particularly fond of him. He was furious about the tattoo." The amusement was back in his tone and a little smile played around his lips, the perfect picture of a boy gotten caught at something naughty. She laughed, trying to picture the look on Irons' face when he saw it. That would have been worth money. "I could get in touch, I suppose, but after so long.there are only three left besides me. Mobius and I were once inseparable. Maybe someday." he said, a touch wistfully.  
  
"Maybe you should," she told him. "I was just curious, you didn't strike me as the kind to get a tattoo. I had figured it was teenage rebellion. I suppose I was close in a way," she said turning the subject a little to what were obviously more pleasant memories.  
  
Closer than you know, he thought, remembering the night that Talan Green had come up with the idea. He was unsure, still a little shy. They teased him, like a little brother, and wanted to go without him, but Mobius insisted that either they would all go, or none. That was what had convinced him, that and wanting some way to prove himself, to for once just be another one of the guys. Besides, he couldn't let them down, and Moby certainly would not change his mind. He remembered them joking around, the way they tried to act like it didn't hurt, and for the first time he really felt a part of something else, a world away from the one in which he was raised. He had held that night close in his heart, even when his father punished him for it, and for his refusal to have the tattoo removed, the last tie, a symbol of his time away, his life beyond Irons' world. It was the only time he had ever successfully defied his father, until Sara.  
  
"Ian? You drifted off for a moment there."  
  
"Sorry, just thinking. It doesn't matter, but I keep it to remember."  
  
"Hey, there is nothing wrong with wanting to remember," she told him as she walked around making an ice pack and heading for the couch. "Sometimes memories are all you've got." She thought about Marie, her father, even her mother who was so long gone that Sara could only barely picture her without looking at a photograph. Ian followed her, and sat down, wishing he had the words to explain what that time in his life had meant to him, both good and bad. Opening up, having someone to talk to was probably the hardest adjustment he was trying to make with her. It was a different thing than talking to his father; he did not have to watch every word for hidden traps. They just sat there quietly while she iced down her bruise and he watched her covertly under lowered lids.  
  
"Hey, Nottingham, you should take that tie out of your hair, it looks good loose." He reached out and loosened his hair letting it fall down around his face. He was thrilled by her interest and a little embarrassed. Compliments were not something he was accustomed to from anyone. "Why?"  
  
"Why what, Sara?"  
  
"The long hair, the beard. Not exactly what I would expect, didn't he give you a hard time about it?" She was trying to do as he asked, to ask questions without worrying about the mention of Irons.  
  
"It was his idea. When I left the Black Dragons, I was a bit.I don't know how to explain. He thought I would readjust to the outside world better without being reminded every time I looked in the mirror. I hated it at first, but considering my work, it did make it easier to fit in." His smile was a little tight, the subject still a little uncomfortable, but the fact that she had asked made him want to explain no matter what.  
  
"Makes sense, a guy I know who was in the army came home swearing he was never cutting his hair or shaving again."  
  
"It was a thought, believe me. I didn't fight him to hard on it. Especially the shaving." He grinned a little and she relaxed, seeing the tension slipping out of his body.  
  
"We should get some sleep, you're looking a little tired and I am not sure you are caught yet."  
  
"Sara, you don't have to worry, I am used to getting very little sleep, but." he said, a little uncertainly. "I.I think, all things considered, that I should sleep on the floor tonight." She had been wondering how to handle this, ever since it became evident that he was going to be staying awhile. She was not sure exactly how they had both reached that conclusion together, but they had, at some kind of subconscious level. He would stay with her until they straightened things between them enough, until he was comfortable enough, to go home. But that still left the sleeping arrangements. She had to admit she had enjoyed last night, and since it had become clear that there was more between them she didn't want him to go. It felt good to be near him and that in itself was strange. Most guys she had dated had wanted nothing but sex and she had not been much better, glad to see them gone so she could relax alone. Ian was different though; it felt good to be held by him, comforting and familiar. It was the familiar part that kind of bothered her, but that was not the issue at the moment, Ian was. He came to her and them backed way, his touch was gentle but if she so much as moved he jumped like a cat on a griddle. Sara wondered if there was someone she could ask about all this, where do you find an expert on emotional abuse and psychological conditioning. As confused as he was, though, it would probably be best for them to put a little space between them. Sara cared for him, hated to admit it but she did. It would be so easy for the two of them to get out of control, and that could more damage to his mental state. And after all the years of isolation, it should be special, not just the two of them acting in the heat of the moment. So he had to sleep somewhere and the couch was still out. She could offer to take it but knew he would refuse; it was that whole gentleman thing. But, she was not going to be the one to bring it up figuring that anything she said would be wrong. She wasn't going to offer him the out, didn't want him to take it as a rejection and back away again. They were still tiptoeing around each other, trying to get their bearings.  
  
"Are you sure?" she asked, wanting to reassure him that the decision was still his.  
  
"You're hurt, and besides being that close again might be too much temptation," he told her, lowering his eyes a little as his color rose.  
  
"It doesn't have to be, you know." she said with a teasing edge in her voice, just to enough to reassure him, not enough to send him running.  
  
"Sara, no. I will be fine." His breath caught in his throat and his response was perhaps a little harsher, a little more emphatic than he wanted. She smiled at him, letting him know that it was all right. He was learning, fast.  
  
"All right, I'll try not to trip over you." He returned the smile.  
  
"If you do, I will catch you." 


	8. Part 3 C

Sara settled him into a nest of blankets at the side of her bed. She almost teased him about sleepovers but figured he wouldn't understand. It was probably better that he was there anyway. They would both probably sleep better without the tension between them. But it had felt good to wake up with him this morning, so close to her. And that kiss.But until he was ready it wouldn't be fair to him. She was not going to replace Kenneth Irons, making him a servant, manipulating him into doing everything her way as Irons had done. What could make a man do that to his only child? She supposed he could have just been a sick bastard, but somehow that didn't seem right, or at least not the only reason. She finished off her last few tasks and settled into bed.  
  
"Night, Ian." She said, a little sleepily.  
  
"Goodnight, Sara."  
  
Ian lay in his quilt looking up at the ceiling. She was so close now, but not close enough to completely disturb him. She had kissed him. The thought of that kiss filled him with longing. If he went to her, just reached up, she would accept him. But he was not willing to risk it. To have her with him, he had to know that it was safe. He wanted her to be sure, anyway. To throw away her acceptance for a night of physical passion was not worth the risk of losing her forever. He was still not sure what to do, what to think. His father had always told him that such things were not for him, and now. It had once been easy to put away his feelings, but that was changing. He understood that on a physical level, some women found him attractive, but this was different, Sara wanted him. He had never been attracted to anyone the way he was to Sara, never really though about that at all to be honest. They had no place in the life he was raised and trained to lead. He only knew Sara and that he loved her, needed to protect her, it was enough, at least it always had been. Now Ian wanted more, he wanted a life with Sara in it, not just as an abstract figure of adoration but as a real flesh and blood woman. The problem remained though, he really wasn't sure how to go about it, how to be with her and not hurt her or embarrass either of them. He thought about his father, the easy grace with which he dealt with the women who threw themselves at him so eagerly. While he could, if necessary, ape the mannerisms, it would not be the same thing. Besides, it struck him as wrong, unclean somehow, to compare the two. He loved Sara and Irons, well he hadn't loved any of them. He settled in, pushing the thoughts away from him. Forcing himself to relax his breathing, let his muscles loosen, and fell asleep.  
  
She was on a battlefield fighting for her life, trying to rally her troops. Her leg ached from the crossbow bolt in her thigh and the blood running down her leg and into her boot was distracting. Suddenly she was grabbed and pulled from her horse. She turned to attack but saw Ian pulling her away with him. No not Ian, Jean and she was not Sara, not at the moment. He grabbed her and dragged her onto his horse and rode off while she tried to make him understand that she had to stay, they needed her. But he would not listen. The intensity of the pain finally made her black out and she woke in a strange room, a strange bed. She looked down and realized she was out of her armor and dressed only in a shirt, the bedclothes pulled right up to her chin for modesty's sake. Her leg felt heavy and when she tried to move, she found that she was too weak.  
  
"Where.I."  
  
"Shhh, you are still to weak, try to rest." Jean rose from the chair that he had been dosing in and came and knelt by her bedside, reaching out for her hand. "The surgeon said you will be all right, but you need to rest." The look in his brown-gold eyes was sweet and intense, full of love and hope.  
  
"I need to get up, I cannot follow my vision from this bed," she snapped. That seemed to please him and he reached out and stroked her face, but she flinched away from his touch. Jean rose abruptly and left the room, the pain clear on his face. When he had gone the tears started, slowly. It was of no consequence, she told herself, he was a noble man, and she was nothing, just the messenger, and when she was done she would return to her life, her family and the farm. They could not change the world, if it were not for the war they never would have met, she never would have felt this, fallen in love with him, or him with her. Sometimes she longed for a simple life, the farm, a husband, children. But that was before the gauntlet, before God had chosen her, before the visions came. Now she was a warrior, fighting for her country, her King and her God. And a peasant girl who fell in love with a Duke, not just any noble but the best of them, a man of honor and faith. Suddenly the vision came, Jean being dragged away from her, beaten down and killed. The future, her future was clear before her, the betrayal, the stake, and cleansing fire. She knew she could not save herself, she had to do as God commanded, and so she would die, become a martyr this was her fate. But she could not allow him to die for her. She shifted, started to try and sit up as she worked on her plan. She only hoped that he was unaware of the vision, or at least what it contained.  
  
Jean returned, he could never remain upset with her for long. She drank in the sight of him, the dark hair, deep brown eyes and the beard that had grown when they first began to make him look older than his twenty-one years. She smiled at him and he returned it, secure in the knowledge that her mood had passed. It was reassuring, giving her the knowledge that she needed, he had not seen her vision, he would go along with her plan and live.  
  
"Jean, I need you to take a few men south and check out the lay of the land. We will have to move on soon and I need to know what we will find there."  
  
"Anything, does this mean you have had a vision? Have you seen our next move?" he asked eagerly, although he had felt nothing himself.  
  
"Yes, I have, and I need you to do this for me."  
  
"But what about you? I cannot leave you alone." He moved closer and knelt on the floor near her. "Jeanne, you know how I feel about you. When this has ended, I would like."  
  
"Shhh, yes I know, but what you want is impossible, no matter what else, I am still a peasant."  
  
"You are worth more than all the noble women in France," he said passionately. "And I love you. Nothing else matters." He leaned forward and took her hand. "I will find a way, please. Promise me that you will at least consider." She looked into his eyes and felt the pain welling up inside her. She knew that when he returned for her she would already be cold ash, her spirit gone to join the God she served. She choked back the lump in her throat. If he saw how upset she was, he would never leave her and he would die too, she could not allow that to happen.  
  
"There is only you, I promise that we will have our time, the day will come when we will be together." She smiled as a look of pure happiness passed his face. She sat up a little more to be closer, ran her hand through his loose hair and pushed back the tears. There was no way to tell him that the day would not come in this lifetime, that soon she would leave him alone here. "My soul belongs to God, but my heart belongs only to you. Now go, you should be gone before morning." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gently as she laid back against the pillows.  
  
"I will return to you as soon as I may." He started to go, but she pulled him gently to her and placed a chaste kiss on his lips.  
  
Sara woke up from the very intense dream alone, to find herself face down on the far side of the bed, next to where Ian slept. A tear was sliding down her face and she brushed it away impatiently, not wanting him to see or to have to explain. She turned the dream over a little in her mind, she had sent him away so that he would not die, promised him a lifetime. She looked down at the Witchblade, a dull red glow swirling lazily in the heart of the stone. Now she had the chance to make it right, for the past and the future. Sara was a little puzzled, frightened of what was happening to her. The emotions were real though, not just what was happening with the damn bracelet. She really was starting to care about him in the here and now, at least she thought she was. The vision seemed to be pushing her, trying to make things happen faster. What was the rush? Damn she was confused. She looked down at him, his eyes still closed. He looked so innocent with those damn beautiful confused, confusing eyes hidden. Her alarm had not yet gone off so she had a few minutes. "Wake up, Bright Eyes," she whispered to him. "I'm already awake, Sara," he said, looking up at her.  
  
"Damn, you startled me."  
  
"You have frequently startled me recently. It is only fair." He smiled up at her. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, before slipping out of bed and heading off for a shower.  
  
Safely alone in the bathroom, Sara stood under the warm water and tried to make sense of what she had seen. The faith, the love that had lead Jeanne to follow her vision to her death was completely foreign to her. The only thing she was sure she believed in was the law; it had always been her cause, bringing criminals to justice. Now she had committed herself to a relationship with a man who had in all probability broken more laws than she could imagine. That was another thing, Jeanne had loved him so much, how many other Wielders had loved him, had he loved? How deeply where they connected? She had seen some of it in the vision, it made her uncomfortable that all this might have been decided for her, that she had not been given a choice. Jeanne had loved him so much that she sent him away, done everything she could to prevent his death. But Ian had knelt before her and offered her his life. I doubt anyone ever understood her, how could they? Ultimately she was abandoned. Ian had, that was the sadness in his voice, counting himself as one of them, blaming himself for not being there, not saving her. That explained the warnings, the reason that he had been so determined, why he had dragged himself to her the other night, to try one last time to make her understand. But that was the past, she needed to concentrate on the future, her future and his, when did he become a part of her future, her life? She felt a little shiver in her heart, he had been willing to put himself in her hands and if she rejected him. Once again she remembered her vision, Ian knelt with the katana held before him. But she could not be responsible for his life, or his death. Still she was becoming more and more comfortable with him, she let him stay in her apartment, sleep by her bed and arouse emotions in her that she had tried so hard to bury beneath work and duty. How much different really was that from what he had done? He had devoted himself to his father, to Kenneth Irons' dream and for his trouble he had gotten abused and abandoned. They were both alone. When it came right down to it, it wasn't just the Witchblade; they were more alike than she was really comfortable admitting. Great, she thought to herself, he doesn't know how to live for himself and I don't know how to give enough of myself to live for someone else. We must be nuts. 


	9. Part 4Transitions

Connections  
Part 4 - Transitions  
  
Ian rose from his warm nest next to Sara's bed, her kiss and the feelings remaining from the dream had him in a daze. She had kissed him and he had not flinched. His thoughts were jumbled as he picked up the blankets and folded them neatly, laying them on Sara's bed. It had been a long time since he had to tend to these simple tasks, not since the military but still it gave him something to do with his hands.  
  
The whole weekend was like a dream and now he had to make his way in the real world again. He hoped that everything would not fade away once they left this place. Wondering what he could do to make up to her for all she had done, he wondered into the kitchen. He had seen her make enough coffee that it should be no real problem for him. He needed to do something for her, and some how this little bit of a domestic chore seemed like the right thing. Besides she was always happier after her first several cups of coffee.  
  
Sara came out dressed for the day ahead to find Ian standing there with a mug of coffee for her. "Thank you," she said, surprised and touched. He was learning fast.  
  
"I should get ready myself," he told her, wanting very much to spend the day with her, knowing that it was impossible. He gave her a smile and went to prepare himself. Cold water would help, he thought. He stood under the shower, focusing his mind, trying to prepare himself for the day ahead. When he emerged he was dressed, calm and more or less ready to face a day of bureaucratic detail. Days spent at the office made him miss Irons in a different way. While he had the training, he never really felt comfortable handling this sort of business. Ian knew that this particular facet of his education had been a mere afterthought, a contingency plan to ensure his father's empire. his legacy.would continue of something should happen, however unforeseen.  
  
Sara was standing by the couch drinking her coffee and looking at the roses he had brought with him the other night. She saw him enter and he was pleased to see a look of happiness cross her face. "Roses, Ian?" she asked.  
  
"A conceit, nothing more, I wanted to do something. Although things did not exactly go as planned." She crossed over to him.  
  
"Oh?" She stepped closer to him, enjoying seeing Ian flustered by her closeness.  
  
"I could not have imagined anything so." he groped blindly, not accustomed to being at a loss for words. He started again. "I was not really expecting you to accept me," he finished, sounding a little lame in his own ears. How could mere words express the hope and despair that had led him here and to her.  
  
Sara watched him reaching for what to say and decided to give him a break. It was way to early for emotional confessions anyway and he was still just getting used to looking her in the eyes. "Ian, let's just leave it for now, Ok? I understand. You want some breakfast? I have to leave soon, but."  
  
"No thank you, I will get something at the office. I need to change anyway." He told her, bringing himself back to the practical and more comfortable. "This is not really appropriate," he indicated the sweater and dress pants he had put on. Sara started to say something only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. Ian's expression went blank and then a cold, dangerous look replaced the more relaxed one he had before. Suddenly Sara remembered that Danny was picking her up today. She put her hand on Ian's arm, to calm him.  
  
"It's only Danny, he's here to pick me up. I completely forgot." He relaxed a little; his stance stiff but he had a guarded expression. She was not sure how the two of them were going to react to each other, Ian was definitely looking a little wary. An uncomfortable thought struck her. "Can he recognize you?"  
  
"No." he said, firmly in a tone she was learning to recognize and except without argument. He strode over to pick up his weapon and slid into it easily as he grabbed his coat and gloves. Sara went and opened the door.  
  
"Took you long enough, partner.hope you have coffee, I was a little slow at home." Danny entered quickly and headed for the kitchen. He stopped suddenly as he registered the tall, black clad figure standing in the middle of the room. This must be Sara's new guy. Danny had met Sara's boyfriends before so the elegant stranger standing there in was a kind of a surprise. She ran to tattooed bad boys and the man moving smoothly through her apartment did not look like he qualified. He stepped forward in an attempt to be friendly. Sara had seemed a little edgy on Friday, but now she seemed to be comfortable with him. Ian had finished getting ready, coat on, gloves in place, and looked like he was about to leave. Sara closed the door and prayed that this went smoothly.  
  
"Hey, you must be Sara's new friend. Danny, Danny Woo," he said holding out a hand. Watching as Ian flowed forward to smoothly, Sara closed her eyes briefly, wishing she had remembered sooner so she could have prepared him for this. And her partner's new found interest in her love life was not something she needed right now. Ian took Danny's hand and shook it briefly.  
  
"Yes, Sara has spoken of you. It is a pleasure to meet you," he said. "If you will both excuse me I need to be going." He walked past Danny to Sara. "Dinner?" he asked, just loud enough to be overheard as he leaned down to give her a very quick kiss.  
  
"Yeah, sure, I'll call," she said, slightly bemused but pleased.  
  
"Please do," he said only his look betraying the urgency of the request. He touched her hand and was gone through the door behind her before she could answer. Probably just as well with Danny here.  
  
"Hey, Pez," Danny called as he grabbed a mug of coffee, getting her attention. "That your date?" He teased her. "A little long for a garden variety date, don't you think?" He was still trying to get a bead on the guy. He moved like a martial artist and there was a sort of dangerous edge under the well-dressed exterior that confused and concerned him. Danny decided to wait though, if he said something to her now she would probably spend the day pissed at him. Most of them never lasted long anyway. He had always hoped that she would find someone, the way he had found Lee, but so far none of them had made much of an impression on her Teflon coated heart. Danny knew that she was afraid to let herself get hurt, but he wished she would let go a little.  
  
"Yeah, well he never does anything by halves," she told him, trying to keep her tone light.  
  
Danny gave her a slightly puzzled look, trying to figure out where he had seen him before. "Have I met him?"  
  
"No, I don't think so, you might have seen him at the station though, he met me there last week," she said covering over the moment quickly. "Don't we have to get to work?"  
  
"O.K." he said, accepting her answer easily. Sara clipped her weapon onto her belt and pulled on her coat. She figured that she would have to put up with his razzing all day about this. Overall it was better than having him ask serious questions about Ian, questions she couldn't answer. She hustled him out the door.  
  
"Hey, Partner, I just thought of something."  
  
"Oh?" she said.  
  
"Mystery boy didn't give me a name." Sara gave an inward sigh of relief.  
  
"Ian, his name is Ian."  
  
"Oh, Ian is it." Danny said suggestively.  
  
Danny kept up the teasing all the way to the house, alternating it with the third degree about Ian. "Where did you meet?" he asked, trying to get some information and figure out what it was about the guy.  
  
"At the Midtown Museum." Strictly accurate if not the entire truth, she figured that it would be enough to keep him off her back.  
  
"Before or after you blew the place up." Sara gave him a look and he flicked his eyes off the road for a moment to give her a wink. "So how long have you known him?"  
  
"Seems like forever," she told him, really wishing he would get this out of his system. The questioning continued until they got to the office. "Listen partner, this is all pretty new, ok? Can you just give me a break for now?" She gave Danny a look and he nodded.  
  
"For now, but if you decide to keep him you will have to bring him over and get Lee's approval.  
  
"Gee, thanks Dad," she said, jumping out of the car and walking away from him, trying to get her thoughts in order. Danny's little morning interrogation had not exactly caught her off guard but Sara wished that she had a chance to think more about what she was going to say. Not that she had expected to be answering these questions now, or ever actually. Somehow she had been so distracted that she hadn't thought at all about how she was going to introduce Ian into her life, she had been to busy deciding if he was going to be a part of it. She hadn't gotten much further. 


	10. Part 4 B

They walked into the office, grabbed some coffee and Sara sat at her desk, trying to sorting through the case files that littered it. Sara settled in to the disorder, submerging herself in the daily disorder, trying to figure out where she was but her thoughts kept turning to this weekend and Ian. After looking for the same file for about ten minutes, she finally turned to her partner. "Damn, Danny have you seen the Sullivan file?"  
  
"Yeah, I already sent it down. Get with the game. That new boyfriend's got you distracted this morning."  
  
You have no idea. Sara thought to herself. Although "Boyfriend" is hardly a word I would use to describe Ian Nottingham.  
  
Jake McCarty stuck his head in the office door, bringing the conversation to a halt. "Pez, Danny, Captain wants to see you in his office, Pronto."  
  
"Yeah, what's up?" Sara asked curiously.  
  
"No clue, but I'd hustle," Jake said as he disappeared pulling the door closed after him. Sara shrugged at Danny as they rose and headed for Captain Siri's office. Sara knocked and they went in. The Captain was not alone, sitting with him was a middle aged man in a suit, looking a bit slick for Sara's comfort. Politician, her mind immediately labeled him.  
  
"You wanted to see us, Captain?"  
  
"Yes, Mr. Merano, these are Detectives Pezzini and Woo, they are handling the Vorschlag murder case. Mr. Merano is with the commissioners office." The gentleman nodded at them but made no move to get up or offer a hand.  
  
"What is the status of the case? There is some concern downtown about the possible political implications of any case connected with Mr. Irons and Vorschlag."  
  
"We are still investigating. We have tried to interview Mr. Irons but he has been unavailable. Other than that we are trying to trace the victims whereabouts just prior to their deaths. We know that they attended a meeting at the Irons mansion, which Mr. Irons also attended, apparently fairly routine, but we can't place them after that." Sara's voice remained calm but inside she was shaken. She had hoped this would get buried in the avalanche of work on her desk. The last thing she needed was some politico looking to make brownie points by poking into things too closely.  
  
"Well you had best get busy then. The Commissioners office wants this thing solved and solved quickly. Especially now that Irons has not been seen. People are going to wonder if we are covering something up."  
  
"You don't really believe that Irons is involved do you?" Sara blurted out.  
  
"No, of course not," Merano said testily. "But eventually, he and the directors of his company are going to want answers. And I don't want to be the one explaining to the owner of VCN why we have not put away the killer. Do you?" he asked.  
  
I don't have to, Sara thought a bit angrily. Sara gave him a look that was usually reserved for the lowest of street scum. "We try to close all of our cases around here, regardless of who is involved," she said coldly. Danny put a warning hand on her arm.  
  
"Then I suggest you get busy, Detectives," he spat out the last word with scorn. Sara opened her mouth but Danny broke in.  
  
"Then if you will excuse us, we will get back to it. Captain, anything else?" Captain Siri shook his head in the negative and motioned dismissal, knowing that getting Sara out of there as fast as possible was the most important thing he could do at that moment. She had always had a temper and she, like her father before her, had no patience for political players.  
  
Danny practically dragged Sara out the door and out of the precinct before she blew. "God damn it, who does that guy think he is," Sara said as she kicked a convenient garbage can. Her anger was giving her an excuse, something to hide her frustration and growing fear. How on earth was she going to manage this? She needed to see Ian, warn him as soon as possible. There was a very fine line here and she had to walk it like a seasoned tightrope walker. Damn, she thought as she gave the trashcan another undeserved kick.  
  
"Calm down, Sara. He is right about one thing. We really haven't been giving this case much attention,"  
  
"Danny, we have a pile of open cases in the office. What makes this one more important than any of the others?" She let him catch up to her as she walked aimlessly across the parking lot, wondering how she was going to tell this to Ian. Not to mention what they were going to do.  
  
"Because we have this guy on our backs?" Danny said. "Seriously Sara you haven't been paying attention to the Vorschlag case since we had that argument out at Irons'. It's almost like you don't care about it. The guy who did this could still be out there. Unless you know something, that you aren't telling me about?" Danny said, looking at her with concern. She met his gaze with one of her own. She wanted to tell him the truth, explain everything to him, after all he was her partner. But how do you explain murder, sentient jewelry and Ian. It was not like it made a lot of sense to her, and she was living it.  
  
"No," she told him tiredly. "I guess I've just been a little off my game. Listen, I have a contact, a friend that works at Vorschlag. I should go see him, maybe find out something."  
  
"Ok, I'll drive," Danny said as they walked to the car. "Where to?" Sara thought about it, Ian had mentioned that he was going to the office. She just hoped that he was in and not too busy.  
  
"Vorschlag building."  
  
"Oh? Big time then. How come I've never heard of him?" Danny asked. Sara shook her head, what was it with his sudden interest in every aspect of her life.  
  
"Hey, I don't know all of your snitches either. Besides, he is not all that high up. He works in the security section," she told him, mentally crossing her fingers behind her back for the little white lie. "Listen Danny, maybe you should stay in the car. He's a little cagey, we both show up and he may mot talk at all."  
  
Danny agreed reluctantly but only after circling the building twice trying to find a place to park. Sara jumped out and headed for the door.  
  
In an unmarked car parked across the street the man watching the building picked up a cell phone, dialed a number and waited.  
  
"Sir, guess who just went into the building?"  
  
"Who?" asked the impatient voice at the other end.  
  
"Pezzini, you want me to do anything?"  
  
"Find out where she is going and who she sees."  
  
The nondescript man put up the phone and headed for the building.  
  
Sara focused a moment and reached out to Ian. It occurred to her once again how useful this was and how much she really needed to have serious talk with Ian about it. Yeah, she thought, when we have three or four seconds between disasters and emotional crises, homicides, oh and trying to build a relationship or something like it.  
  
Ian, sorting through the papers on his father's desk heard her and reached out for her to find her on her way in the door. "Leave me," he growled to the assistant hovering in the background. "And have Detective Pezzini shown straight to me when she arrives." he told her. In her mind, Sara saw the elevator and some kind of sensor lock that struck a memory that she could not quite place. She shook her head for a moment trying to figure out how he did that and adding it to the list of things they needed to talk about. The assistant hurried out, glad to be away, Ian Nottingham had always made him nervous.  
  
Sara walked past the desk, with a flash of her badge and made her way to a smaller elevator, behind the public banks. Looking around to be sure no one saw her, she placed the red stone of the Witchblade against the sensor. The elevator opened and she stepped in for the express ride to the top floor. She closed her eyes briefly and tried to figure out what to do when she got there.  
  
The nondescript man peered through the glass of the building and saw Det. Pezzini wave her way past the guards, and go to the private elevator. He looked around and saw it slide open and her step in. He had been watching long enough to know where it went. He took out his phone and hit the redial button, speaking quickly. "Sir, I think we may have a problem." 


	11. Part 4 C

As Sara reached the desk, she was immediately met by a young man who guided her quickly back to Irons' office. She was a little surprised, not really expecting to find that Ian had moved in so quickly. but then he did have to keep up appearances, and as far as she knew he had told no one of Irons' death. They should probably talk about that at some point too, she thought, as they reached the door. Her guide left her as soon as the door started to slide open, promptly disappearing down the hall as she stepped in and stopped dead. Ian rose gracefully from behind his father's desk. He had changed and was now wearing a suit in his accustomed black, complete with black vest, shirt and tie. He does clean up well even if he is a little limited in the colour department, she reminded herself, trying to catch her breath as he crossed the room to greet her, concern and pleasure displacing the cold business mask he was wearing.  
  
He started to reach out for her but held back at the last moment, uncertainly, his hands out in front of him. She took them both gratefully, having recovered a little from the sight of him. She needed the reassurance now that it was just the two of them. This morning's stress was starting to catch up with her. Ian held her hands in his, enjoying this simple act, before releasing one of them and leading her to the couch. Setting her down, he took the chair next to her. Already he had come to welcome these little things, the simple normal touches that were a part of normal life but were to him unfamiliar, even while he craved so much more. But that was a thought to dwell upon another time. "I admit I wanted to see you badly, but I wasn't expecting you so soon. What has happened?" he asked.  
  
"I'm sorry, this was not exactly part of my plans either. I'm sure I am taking up time that neither of us have."  
  
"What is the problem?" he asked her, ignoring the comment about time, concerned. There was an edge to his tone that boded ill for the source of that discomfort. Fortunately, Sara was too distracted to notice.  
  
"I just got dragged into my Captain's office this morning. Little matter of certain Vorschlag murders. Some bureaucrat from the Commissioners office is making trouble. I don't know what to do, I don't want you involved, hell, I don't want to be involved, but I don't see how we can avoid it. It's not like I can just turn this over to someone else." She sat still for a minute, looking down at his hand holding hers.  
  
"Sara, I'm sure there is something that can be done, something to protect us both." His mind was racing for a solution, but found nothing that immediately came to mind. He considered and rejected several options out of hand, including simply removing the person that was causing her so much distress. Sara would not be pleased and he knew she would figure it out. Besides, it would also be a bit suspicious. Damn, bad enough Irons left him this mess, but he had to drag Sara and her career into his madness as well. Ian knew a simple bullet could no longer be a viable solution to every problem. "Who is this person that is giving you problems?"  
  
The cold in his voice caused Sara to narrow her eyes at him. She could see the killer in him lurking, very close, just beneath the civilized business veneer and knew it would always be with her. What was she thinking getting involved with him, with this? But he was also going to have to change, he was no longer Irons' strong arm, he had to become something else himself. He could not keep up the appearance that his father lived forever.  
  
"Nottingham, don't do anything that I would have to arrest you for. Don't even think about it."  
  
"I have some different sources of information than you do," he explained, trying to cover the fact that his first thought had been exactly what she suspected. "I will see if I can find out anything." She held his gaze for a moment before replying, waiting for the unspoken promise that he would not do anything hasty.  
  
"His name is Merano, and he woks for the commissioners office," she told him reluctantly, trying to figure out what Ian was planning.  
  
"I will see what I can do." Sara gave him a sharp look. "What I can find out." He amended hastily. "We can discuss it over dinner?" He made the last a question, trying to be sure that she still wanted him in her apartment, in her life even. He knew that his reaction to the situation had held up an unflattering mirror to their disparities and he was unsure how to heal the breach. As much as his reaction might cause problems, though, he could not simply push it away. It was his duty, his honor to protect her, now he had to learn to use new tools to affect his designs. He tried to examine his thoughts, he was becoming a little too like his father. He had no desire to manipulate Sara, he simply wanted to keep her safe. It must be the surroundings, he thought, pushing away any further considerations to focus on her.  
  
"Of course, you're still staying, aren't you?" Her answer surprised him, her determination to continue in spite of his mistake.  
  
"I just wanted to be sure."  
  
"Ian, why do you doubt me so much?" she gave him a troubled look, holding his hand between both of hers. She was still trying to get used to the changes in him. He went from business man, to killer, to lost little boy in the blink of an eye. But some how it made her even more determined to see things through. In itself, her reaction startled her, but now was not the time to let him see her own concerns.  
  
"I don't doubt you, but you know this is new to me. I keep thinking it is a dream." He looked at her, unspoken apology in his soft brown eyes. Those eyes were enough to make her more certain than ever that she was doing the right thing. Needing to touch him, reassure him somehow, she slid her thumb under the cuff of his glove, just able to stroke his palm. Ian closed his eyes, her touch electric, intensely intimate, and yet reassuring. at the same time. "Thank you, Sara," he said a little breathlessly.  
  
"Now, I can touch you, even with those," she told him, "at least until you are ready to put them away." He was still trying to get his mind back into the here and now. Her touch meant everything, letting him know that this weekend was not a dream. He was not going to wake up to a world without her. Now, this new situation was threatening the fragile peace they were trying to carve out for themselves. Ian was not going to let that happen, no matter what the cost. "I should go," she told him. "I do have a lot of work to do, and I'm sure you do too."  
  
Ian rolled his eyes toward the desk, horror showing on his face. She laughed, so now she knew what truly frightened Ian Nottingham. No wonder the assistant was so nervous. Ian ducked his head a little at her laughter. "Are you sure you don't need me for something? I have a meeting this afternoon but." he asked her, his voice somewhere between desperation and humor.  
  
"No, besides your presence would be suspicious and entirely too distracting." She gave him a quick kiss, stood up and left the room before he could recover, from either the compliment or the kiss.  
  
"Get anything good?" Danny asked as Sara returned to the car, turning over things in her mind.  
  
"Huh? No nothing we can use at the moment," she told him, sounding a little distracted. "He'll get back to me if he hears anything."  
  
"Alright, so what's next?"  
  
"Back to the office, go through the files, the usual."  
  
"Great, another exciting day pushing paper for the city of New York." He grinned over at her but she was once again lost in thought. Danny was getting a little concerned. It was not like his partner to be so distracted. He wondered again what was up but decided now was not the time to ask.  
  
As she and Danny headed back to the office, Sara tried to run through her options. There was one thing she knew she needed to do and she was not looking forward to it. She never liked talking to the department shrink but the doctor was the only one who might have an idea about Ian. It wasn't a good idea, but it was the best she could come up with at the moment. She waved her partner on in and took her phone from her pocket.  
  
"Hello, Dr. Slomack? Yeah, Its Detective Pezzini, can I come by your office this afternoon, I need to ask you some questions." She listened to the doctor with one eye out for anyone around who might overhear. "No, its not about me, I just need some information."  
  
Sara walked in and sat down at her desk and rifled through the file, it having failed to sink into the disaster area during their absence. She was still wondering how to handle the conversation with the doctor, not to mention exactly how she was going to get away from her partner. Explaining any of this to Danny would be hard, but right now it would be down right impossible, at least until she had more of it sorted out in her own mind. She was vaguely aware of Danny sitting at his desk, reviewing the files of background data, trying to get together a list of interviews to be conducted. Suddenly, he rose and closed the office door.  
  
"Sara, I think we have something we need to talk about." There was an angry note in his voice that startled her.  
  
"Yeah, Danny, what's up?"  
  
"About that friend of yours? The one at Vorschlag?"  
  
"Yeah.?" she asked, cautiously, little tendrils of concern creeping up her spine.  
  
Danny dropped the two pictures he held onto the desk in front of her. The first was a stock file photo of Ian, from his Vorschlag personnel file, part of the data on employees they needed to interview, the other, one of the rare newspaper photos of Kenneth Irons, Ian standing in his accustomed place behind Irons' left shoulder. Sara looked down at the photos, her hands going to her temples as she tried to find a way to explain that would not anger her partner any more than he already was.  
  
"When," Danny asked, his voice dangerously quiet, "were you planning to tell me that your.contact.your.boyfriend was Ian Nottingham, head of Vorschlag Security?"  
  
Never? she thought desperately, knowing that she could not actually say that to her partner. "Danny, I." He cut her off.  
  
"Jeez, no wonder he didn't give me a name. What is going on here partner? You spend a whole lot of time thinking Irons is suspicious, the you drop the whole case like a hot rock, you're acting weird. Now you turn up dating his right hand man. I know I promised to give you some time but still, blind faith, right? Not blind stupidity. How long did you think it would take for me to find out?"  
  
"I wanted to tell you partner but things have been moving really fast around here. Life has gotten a little complicated at the moment."  
  
"Complicated? You're dating someone who is involved in a murder investigation. It doesn't exactly get any more complicated. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't go to the Captain right now and have this case reassigned? No wonder it's going nowhere. You're too close."  
  
"Don't you dare accuse me of trying to screw up this investigation, you know me better than that. The reason I didn't say anything to you had nothing to do with the case," she said, getting angry herself. "Look, I wanted to tell you, I trust you. But Ian doesn't know you, and if it gets around that we're together, it could be bad for both of us, not to mention my career."  
  
"Then why not have yourself removed from the case? He could be a suspect, you know. He didn't get that job by being a pushover. He could be dangerous, Sara. How do you know he is not trying to get close to you because of the case?"  
  
"Because I have access that another investigator doesn't. Besides, Ian is not a suspect."  
  
"How do you know that? You know he could be in it right up to his eyes. Working for Irons, who knows what he is involved in, you said yourself that there was something off about him. Since when do you accept the word of anyone where a murder is concerned? Your perspective is way off."  
  
"He has an alibi, Danny."  
  
"Oh yeah, they all do. What kind of alibi could he possibly have."  
  
"Me," she told him. That stopped Danny in his tracks. "Listen, partner, I should have told you, but I couldn't, ok? You know I like to keep my private life quiet. I did want to involve you in any of it, the case, Ian, this is a powder keg, and I don't want it to blow up in both of our faces. I know, we're partners but I just didn't want you getting in trouble, you have a family and I didn't want to be responsible."  
  
"Well, I am involved, Sara, I'm your partner and partners are supposed to look out for each other, not keep secrets and go around behind each others backs. From now on I want you to keep me in the loop. We'll handle this all above board. That way if something happens it won't look like you trying to hide something. OK?"  
  
"Yeah," she answered reluctantly. "But give me a day or two. Ian is looking into some things for me. I promise I will tell you as much as I can, as soon as I can, but some of it concerns him, OK? And I really need to talk to him before I can tell you anything else." She held up a hand to stop him. "Its not stuff about the case, not really, just stuff we need to work out between us first."  
  
"All right, for now. But you play it straight with me or all bets are off."  
  
"I understand and I will try ok?"  
  
"Ok, one thing though, are you sure you trust this guy? I mean." he asked, his concern evident.  
  
"With my life." She looked Danny squarely in the eyes. My God, I think this guy has really hooked her. Danny thought, amazed. Hope he's worth it.  
  
"Good enough, Partner. For now." He returned to his desk, still a little uncomfortable with the situation. Sara had always had a taste for bad boys, but this was different. Nottingham may dress well, but he was not exactly an eagle scout, not in his line of work and certainly not working for Mr. Kenneth "more money than some small countries" Irons. She had been hurt plenty in the past and he was not going to stand by quietly and let him screw up her life. If it looked like there was something wrong with this guy, he would find a way to bust him.  
  
"Hey Danny, I got to go and check on something, cover for me?"  
  
"What's up, Partner?"  
  
"Nothing, I just got to go see someone, no big deal." Danny looked at her, trying to reassure himself that it was not something he needed to worry about. But she looked ok, more her old self than she had in days. "Sure partner, I got your back."  
  
"Thanks, I'll be back as soon as I can." She grabbed her jacket and tried to keep her feelings to herself. The shrink made her uncomfortable, but she didn't want to worry Danny any more than necessary and this was one thing that she couldn't share with him, or anyone else.  
  
Sara walked into Dr. Slomack's office still trying to figure out what she was going to say. She did not really know what she was looking for even. She wanted to understand, to find a way to help Ian, but there was not a lot that she could say. She definitely couldn't tell her everything. Some of it was so out there that she would not have believed it herself if she hadn't known it was true.  
  
After carefully checking the hall to make sure no one saw her, Sara knocked and was admitted to the office. It was a pretty small space, since the shrink was a consultant and only worked here part time. Over all it resembled any other city office, except that the books on the shelf were all related to psychology and mental illness. Dr. Elizabeth Slomack looked up at Sara and waved her into the chair on the other side of the desk. The doctor was a petite woman with flaming red hair, small wire framed glasses, and a taste for dressing casually. Sara had heard that some of the guys in the station thought she was hot, but were too nervous about her profession to ask her out. Sara thought that was pretty funny, a bunch of macho cops scared by a woman half their size. Of course she made Sara pretty nervous, too, but she had a few dozen good reasons to avoid shrinks.  
  
"So detective, what brings you to see me? After our last talk I figured that you would pretty much do anything to avoid me."  
  
"Nothing personal, Doctor, I just don't really like talking about myself. When I need to work out a problem I am more comfortable just going a few rounds with the bag in the gym. But I need to ask you some questions about something."  
  
"Anything you like, is this in regards to a case?"  
  
"Not exactly, it's kind of a personal thing."  
  
"Well, that's what I am here for, how can I help?"  
  
"What do you know about child abuse and mental conditioning?" she asked cautiously. The doctor looked at her a little startled. "Those are two subjects that I don't often hear about together. What is the context?"  
  
"I don't know, not really. It's all a little confusing."  
  
"OK, let's start with a simple question, is the child still in the home?"  
  
"No, well, the victim isn't a child anymore, this started a long time ago. But I am pretty sure the abuse continued up until recently."  
  
"Emotional, physical, sexual? Or some of each?"  
  
"Mostly emotional, but I think there may have been physical as well. There was no sexual abuse, that I am sure of." More like anti-sexual abuse, she thought to herself and wondered if that was a symptom of something. But that was definitely not something she was going to discuss with this woman.  
  
"Are the parents still in the person's life?"  
  
"The father died recently, I don't know anything about the mother, but I don't think she has ever been around." Sara felt the tingling that usually heralded a vision, but resisted. The last thing she needed right here, right now was a vision.  
  
"OK, so the father was the abuser."  
  
"Yeah, but it is a lot more complicated than that. The father had all these rules, tried to get him to be emotionless, cold, and not touch anyone."  
  
"What do you know about the father?" the doctor asked, filing Sara's slip away in her mind. Male victim, then, wonder if this is someone she is dating, she thought.  
  
"Ruthless, cold, controlled, a little crazy I think. But the victim still loves him, I just don't get that, talks about all the good times they had. It's like that is supposed to make up for everything else." Sara was getting angry and the doctor was intrigued. She could see why Sara was good at her job; she had a real empathy for her victim. It probably made her a good friend and a very bad enemy.  
  
"It is not uncommon in these cases, the victim tends to think it is their fault, to analyze their actions with an eye towards what they have done wrong. But then the same is true of the abuser."  
  
"You aren't going to give me all that crap about the abuser usually being a victim are you? I really just don't buy that. I mean just because someone does something to you doesn't mean you pass it on."  
  
"You may think it is crap, detective, but it also happens to be true, although in this case I would look for something different. The emotional control thing points more to someone who has been badly hurt, who wants to protect himself. Maybe your abuser wanted to protect his child from being hurt the same way? Its obsessive and extreme, I'll give you that, but it would not be the first time something like that has happened." Dr. Slomack paused a moment to think, then continued. "It is also possible that some of it is related to the mother, maybe some blame issues. Depending on what happened to her."  
  
"I can't tell you anything about that," she said.  
  
This time the tingling got stronger, and she saw a brief flash of Irons holding a baby. "She is never to be mentioned in this house again," he said as he took the baby and walked away.  
  
"I really don't know, but I think maybe she died." Sara told her, covering the Witchblade with her hand and hoping that she had not given anything away. The last thing she needed was to zone out on the department shrink and loose her job. The doctor did not appear to notice, and Sara breathed an inward sigh of relief.  
  
"If that's what happened it is possible that the father blamed the child in some way." Sara thought about what the doctor told her. Made sense in a way, you always want to protect your kids from the things that have hurt you, or frighten you. This wasn't getting her anywhere though. She was here to find out how to help Ian, not to get a psychological evaluation of the deceased Mr. Irons.  
  
"This is all very interesting, but I need some help here. Can you give me some advice on how to help the victim?" How weird is that, she thought, Ian as a victim.  
  
"All right, let's get started then."  
  
When Sara left the doctor's office an hour later, she had a lot the think about and a few suggestions. It was very hard, trying to balance giving enough information to get what she needed without giving away anything. She hated playing all these word games, having all these secrets. She was an upfront kind of person and this was really making her nervous. But if it helped, it should be worth it. At least she hoped so. She wondered what to make of the vision, what Ian knew about his mother. He had never mentioned her at all. Should she tell him what she saw? And what did it mean anyway? One thing she was sure of now was definitely not the time to bring it up. She stored it away, figuring there would be time for it later. 


	12. Part 4 D

Dr. Immo returned to his office from the lab, unlocked and opened the door. He stopped suddenly when he became aware of another presence in the room. Ian was sitting on the corner of the doctor's desk, calmly flipping through his own medical file. He looked at the doctor standing there and placed the file on the desk beside him. He did not rise, however and the look on his face was entirely too calm.  
  
Immo was surprised and pleased to see him. He had been more worried than he wanted to admit when he had received the call that Ian had left the house. When he had last seen him, Ian was mentally and physically exhausted, worn down by nightmares and the combination of grief and guilt over his father's death. But when he had tried to sedate him, Ian had refused, and when he tried to insist, the boy offered to send him to join Irons. He had left some medication, hoping that the staff would either be able to convince him to take it or somehow slip it into his food. When he disappeared, Immo had assumed he had crawled off to die, one side effect of his training and conditioning leaving him without the normal reticence most people had toward suicide. It had saddened him and he mourned the lose of the boy more than he had thought he would. When he had received the call that Ian was still alive he had been relieved but still concerned about him, now the doctor could see for himself.  
  
"Ian, I am glad to see that you are alive and well. We have been worried. Where have you been? You should not upset people like that."  
  
"I don't see where it is any of your concern, Doctor. I am more than capable of taking care of myself. I do, however, need to settle a few things with you."  
  
"I brought you into this world, Ian. You will not speak to me in that fashion. You were raised better than that." The Doctor new he was probably being too harsh with a trained killer facing him, but he fell back into the habit of treating Ian like a boy, in spite of his age. He closed the door behind him and started to turn back towards the desk, but Ian was there before him, pinning him easily against the door with one hand, the rest of his body loose and ready to strike.  
  
"And I can take you out of this world, Doctor," he said coldly. "You are not my father, you will do me the courtesy of not trying to replace him. I am the one who gives you your orders now, and you will grant me the appropriate respect." He released the doctor and returned to his perch before Immo had the chance to recover.  
  
"Excuse me, Ian, or is it Mr. Nottingham now?" Immo said, his nervousness adding a querulous note.  
  
"Ian will do, doctor," he said, his voice still calm with a cold edge that made the older man even more curious, and cautious.  
  
"I did not mean to upset you. I'm afraid that I don't handle change as well as I did when I was younger," he told him, trying to regain his composure, figure out how to treat this new, more confident, Ian. "I was concerned for your well being. I did not mean any disrespect."  
  
"Yes, must see how the lab rat is faring," Ian said bitterly. He knew he was being unfair to the doctor, but being here made him uncomfortable. The doctor had spent plenty of time poking and prodding him, pumping him full of drugs and who knew what else. Being this close to him, even knowing that he had the upper hand was never going to be easy. For too long he had been under the control of others, he was not about to let that happen again. Besides, he needed to be sure of Immo's loyalties.  
  
"You know you were never a lab rat to me," he said, disappointment and little sadness in his voice. "I was your father's doctor, even his friend as much as he had such things, for over 40 years. I always cared for you and did my best for you, but there was only ever so far that Kenneth would allow a challenge. I may not have approved of all that he asked me to do, but if not me, then someone else, someone who cared nothing for you." Immo knew the risk involved in talking to Ian so frankly. The boy.man, he corrected himself, was a trained killer, and at this point he had no idea what Ian was capable of.  
  
The reflection of his words to Sara shocked him. Ian had never thought about the whys of the doctor's actions anymore than it had occurred to him, until recently, to question his father's. He had his answer and he knew it. While the doctor might not be completely trustworthy, he did deserve to be given a chance. Besides, he still needed the answers that Immo had, for himself, and for the hope of a life he was trying to build with Sara.  
  
The Doctor watched Ian as he tried to figure out where to go from here. He knew the boy was probably confused and he didn't blame him. He was not prepared for a world, which would not always have Kenneth Irons in it, and now he had to make his own way.  
  
Ian spoke softly, "Very well Doctor, I will accept that we are not enemies, for now. But if you try to betray me, I will be as forgiving as my Father. You would do well to remember that." He stood up and seated himself in one of the chairs in front of the desk and gestured the doctor to his own, in a motion frighteningly familiar.  
  
"All right, Ian. Now may I ask you where you have been for the past three days?"  
  
"My personal life is my own. It is still not your concern," he said slowly, then continued more softly, a concession to the doctor's evident worry, "I have been staying with a friend." Suddenly Ian's new confidence made sense. There was only one place he could have been. Immo was well aware of Irons' obsession with the homicide detective, and Ian's as well. He had long wondered what would happen when the two actually met, looked like he had his answer. It seemed to have done him some good, at least he was still alive. He wondered how much she had to do with that.  
  
"And how is Det. Pezzini?" he asked, although he could see the answer for himself in the softening of Ian's expression at the mention of her name before his usual emotionless mask reemerged.  
  
"She is also not your concern," he told the older man shortly. While he was more or less willing to concede that the Doctor was not his enemy, still he was not comfortable with the idea of him anywhere near Sara. "What I need are answers about myself, about what you and Irons did to me."  
  
At that moment Ian's cell phone went off, interrupting them. He pulled the phone out of his pocket, with a good idea of whom he would find on the other end.  
  
"Hello," he said, voice carefully neutral as he held up a hand toward the doctor.  
  
"Hey, Nottingham, you ok?" Sara asked, confused by his response.  
  
"Fine, I am in a meeting."  
  
"Ah, sorry. Just wondering when you are getting home, thought I would pick up dinner, considering the day we have both been having. You ok with that? Why don't you call me back when you're finished?"  
  
"No, there is no need, I can pick it up," Ian said, mentally chiding himself for having forgotten to make the arrangements when he saw her. Of course then there would be no need for this phone call, and he would have missed an opportunity to hear her voice. "I will be back around seven o'clock, I think." His words were still careful, but there was an unmistakable warmth to his tone that Sara could hear at the other end.  
  
Sara was not the only one to notice the change. Immo picked up a file at random, trying to act casual, to hide the happiness he felt. Ian was breaking free and the only help he had was also the only person the doctor was completely sure was in no danger from him. He was intrigued by the change, but not intrigued enough to risk it, not after his earlier attempt had been rebuffed so strongly. He was still unsure of her involvement in the events of the last few weeks. Ian's account of Irons' death had been hazy at best, but he was sure Sara Pezzini was involved, and he was also sure that it was she on the other end of the phone. The phone call was ending but Immo continued to stare at the papers before him, giving them a little privacy.  
  
Ian put his phone away and returned to the conversation as if it had never been interrupted. "Now Doctor, I believe that you have some answers for me."  
  
"Hey, partner, time to get rolling," Danny called to her over the papers she was still sorting. How could so much paperwork be generated in such a small amount of time. It seemed like any time they managed to get it cleaned up, it regenerated, leaving them more behind than before. At least it had given her some time to think things over. Dr. Slomack's advice and suggestions were fighting for brain space with the case, Danny, and over it all the thought that she must have been nuts to consider a relationship with a genetically enhanced, mentally conditioned, assassin/ex-stalker, who she had apparently spent several past lives in love with. And he loved her. This problem was not getting any better and now with Danny involved, Sara was even more upset than ever. She knew that the most practical thing to do was to get rid of either the case or Ian, but she was willing to do neither. God, she thought, and I thought last week that I needed to get a life. Talk about being careful what you wish for.  
  
She threw down the file she was working on and grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair. "Sure, partner, drop me off around the corner, I got a few things I need to pick up."  
  
"No problem, Woo's taxi at your service," he said, sarcastically, a smile letting her know that he was only kidding. She needed it, she had been a little edgy since she came back from her mysterious side trip today. But at least it had given him a chance to take care of a little errand of his own. The last thing they needed right now was her finding out that he was running a check on her boyfriend.  
  
Sara took care of her errands quickly and essentially unconsciously, all the while trying to figure out what she was going to do and how. On impulse she got a small gift for Ian. It wasn't much but it would definitely make some things easier. She returned home with plenty of time to kill before Ian and dinner arrived. What she was going to do? She decided to put it aside for the moment and just get her shower, maybe that would help her clear her mind.  
  
Ian left Immo's office in a good mood, many of his fears put to rest. He fingered the slip of paper in his pocket. "Irons was too careful to leave you incapable of continuing in the event of his death. I understand if you wish to pursue your current course, but you should have this just in case, don't deny yourself the option. if you change your mind, give this to Detective Pezzini, she can help you." Immo had written something on a prescription pad and handed the folded paper to him. He was tempted to throw it in the nearest trashcan. Even though he was willing to trust the doctor in a limited way, he still had reservations. He was not prepared to explain any more to Sara than he already had. Even those admissions made him flush with embarrassment, although they had not had the effect of driving Sara from him. He did not want her to see him as any more of a freak than he already knew he was. Ian was amazed that Sara accepted her so easily and he would do anything to make sure that things continued. Thoughts of her made everything else fade for the moment into insignificance. His mood lightened at he considered what he should get her for dinner. He wanted to please her, to amaze her. Ian started to consider and lost in these more pleasant thoughts he continued on.  
  
He stopped by the office briefly, hoping to return to the apartment earlier than his expected seven o'clock, to have more time with Sara. He retrieved the file on Merano that had been finished in his absence. The news was not particularly good. He sighed, of course it could not be simple. The world seemed determined to interfere with them today. With an eye towards at least a good dinner, if not a relaxing evening, he continued with his plan. Any evening with Sara was better than an evening without her, he thought, even if it was not the quite as relaxing as he had planned.  
  
When he arrived, he discovered the front door locked. When Sara did not answer his knock, he reached out, a little concerned to find that she was inside and in no danger. Confused he went around and let himself in the fire escape window. He wondered briefly if Sara had left it unlocked deliberately, but decided she probably simply had not noticed since the last time he had used it. The apartment was quiet, but her jacket was there, and he heard the shower running. He set down dinner and took off his coat and gloves, guessing that she would be a while, and sat on the couch to wait. At least that explained her failure to answer, for a brief moment he had feared that she had changed her mind. That he had gotten it wrong or done something to make her change her mind. It had chilled him much more than the cold winter wind. As he thought about it, he reached up and took the tie out of his hair. Sara had expressed a preference for his hair loose and he would do anything to please her. It was different, this desire to please her, he had always done everything to please Irons, for just those little signs of affection too rarely doled out, priceless in their rarity. Sara was so free with her feelings; she showed what she felt at any given time right on her face. It was exhilarating even though it left him feeling confused most of the time. He sat and enjoyed these pleasant thoughts and letting the day fade into the back of his mind, work almost completely forgotten. That was also a new feeling, and he relished the freedom.  
  
Standing in the shower, Sara was thinking about Ian. Between everything else, she had been thinking about him all day. What was it that made him suddenly so important to her? Knowing that they had been together in past lives was one thing, but what was it that drew her to him now? His physical beauty, his life, which had been pretty strange so far, or maybe the strength and the conviction in him when he spoke about her destiny, their destiny? Some or all of these things, she decided. He had a kind of blind faith that was both compelling and a little unnerving at the same time. Then there was the real challenge, a man who knew so much about so many things but had no real experience of normal life, even simple touch was a challenge. Not that he was not trying to change that. Both times they had kissed, really kissed, there had been a passionate intensity bordering on the explosive. It made Sara's heart beat a little faster to think about it. The warmth and longing in him was almost irresistible but both times he had backed away, hell, practically run. Her talk with the shrink had been interesting, cleared up some of it, but finding a way to work with the advice she had given was a challenge, especially with everything else going on. It had been enough of a challenge to give the woman enough information without her asking too may questions. Now all she had to do was make a workable plan and put it into practice. Ian was trying, and she felt that she should be doing something as well, he was reordering his entire life and that was not a easy task. Nor was it easy for her, caring about someone who was so foreign to her and yet so achingly familiar. All this was getting her nowhere, and she couldn't stand here thinking about it forever. 


	13. Part 4 E

Sara grabbed a towel and headed out into the other room to get dressed. As she emerged, Ian heard the door and rose politely, turning towards her. She was standing in the middle of the bedroom area with a towel wrapped, sarong fashion, around her and another one on her head. "Sara, I." Ian was brought up short by the sight. He had seen her in very little before but to be confronted by her in a towel, standing so very close was beyond both his wildest dreams and his deepest desires.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she said, startled by his sudden appearance, he was early and she was not sure that she had her thoughts enough in order to talk to him coherently. Her eyes flashed with irritation, here he was standing in the middle of her living room with out so much as a by your leave and scaring the daylights out of her.  
  
Ian turned his back to her and looked down, trying to get his thoughts under control. He broke out in a cold sweat and flushed, embarrassed by his reaction. He felt like a complete fool, having just walked in and made himself at home, as if she could ever accept him like that.  
  
"I.you invited me," he said hoarsely. Sara walked farther into the room, not even noticing her state of undress.  
  
"Damn it, Nottingham," she said, oblivious to his discomfort, letting her concern show in her voice. "I could have shot you. You really have got to knock or something, let me know you're here." Her anger faded as she noticed his lack of response, and the fact that he had turned his back on her. She looked down and realized with a sudden clarity what was bothering him. Damn, she thought, and the first thing the doc had warned her about was startling him, pushing him into situations where the line was unclear.  
  
"Ian?" she said more softly, moving up a little closer to him.  
  
His thoughts more or less back in order, he answered her. "I'm sorry, Sara. The door was locked and you did not answer it, so I let myself in." He indicated the fire escape window. He still did not turn around. The idea that she was concerned about his well being, that she was not angered by his presumption thrilled him and made getting his thoughts back in order an even larger chore.  
  
"It's ok, but next time, knock on the bathroom door, send me a message, or something so I know you're here. I'm not used to having another person in my apartment."  
  
"I could leave," he said, "Come back later, when you are expecting me." There was a desperate tone to his voice that almost made her laugh. Turning it into a simple misunderstand, just ignore his reaction, act like this was just a normal evening, that was what she needed to do. Let him off the hook, she thought.  
  
"No. Besides, you brought dinner. Just let me change." She returned to the bedroom and gathered her clothes, leaving him sitting there. He was still amazed by how much had things had changed between them in just a few days, from stranger, to friend, to.something else. He still wasn't completely sure he dared to believe where this was leading them. Her sudden changes of mood, while refreshing in there own way were threatening to give him mental whiplash. But regardless of everything else, he was here, was welcome, even expected.most of the time.  
  
"You can turn around now," she said, returning in shorts and a tee shirt. He looked at her, his eyes still a little cloudy. He relaxed visibly, and she almost laughed, that something as simple as a woman in a towel could faze him so badly. "Come on, let's see what you brought for dinner," she told him. "I'm starved."  
  
As they settled on the couch after dinner, Sara suddenly remembered the little gift she had gotten for him on the way home. It had been an impulsive purchase but since it bordered on the practical she didn't think it qualified as startling. "Ian, I have something for you." He gave her a puzzled look as she got up from the couch and ran over to her jacket. "Close your eyes." He did as he was asked, still confused, but willing to trust her. Sara took his hand and closed it around something small and metallic. "Ok, you can look." He opened his eyes cautiously, not wanting to believe what he felt. It was a key, sitting there in his hand, a key that she had given him. "Now you don't have to risk getting caught breaking and entering. It would be more than a little hard to explain." He looked stunned, not trusting himself to speak.  
  
"Ian?"  
  
"Thank you, Sara. This means more to me than you can imagine." He gave her such a look of complete adoration that she had to turn away, embarrassed. Those shining dark eyes were so intense, so expressive, how could she think when he looked at her like that.  
  
Ian was amazed. A key, to her apartment. Not that he really needed it, but the simple fact that she had given it to him was a more tangible symbol of her acceptance than all the words in the world. She really wanted him here, no matter what the problems involved. She was actually willing to let him continue to be a part of her life. After his earlier behavior he had felt once again the freak, the outsider. She had simply ignored it, focusing on the food, telling him a little about her day, complaining about the paperwork and her caseload. Just treating him like a friend, like a person. It had calmed his fears a little, but made him wonder at the same time if she had reconsidered.  
  
"It's ok, just knock when you come in," she told him. "Now, do me one more favor, sit back." She had spent a certain amount of time trying to figure out how to put Dr. Slomack's advice to use, to get him used to her without startling him, and decided now was the perfect time to make a start. They needed something to bring them back together after her little faux pas earlier. Ian leaned back against the arm of the couch and she sat down in front of him, sliding back to rest against him. She reached out and took his hands, putting them around her waist. Ian stayed consciously still, just letting her move him, it was easier than he thought, to just put himself in her hands. He let them relax against her, enjoying the closeness. "Ok, let's try and discuss this case." Her sudden change of direction left him confused, wondering what she was doing. Trying to think things out logically with her sitting there like that was harder than he could have imagined, but it was reassuring as well. It reaffirmed his hope that she had not changed her mind about him. Learning to read her moods was much harder than Irons, she changed like a stormy sky, one minute dark and angry, one minute clear and calm. His father had been much more controlled, keeping so much inside that it was much like crossing a mine field without a map. He realized that she was trying to put him at ease and let him adjust to the level of contact. He tried to block out the feel of her and concentrate on the problem. It used to be so easy, but with her resting against him.He organized his thoughts, the information from the background check he ordered, and began to give her a clear report as he had to Irons so many times before. Work had always been one of the best ways to clear his mind.  
  
"Merano is a low level political player assigned to the police commissioner's office. He deals mostly in public information, PR, things of that nature. His brother in law is a city commissioner, which is how he got this position. He is more or less for sale to the highest bidder; although I'm sure he has he has an agenda of his own. I have not been able to establish what that is however. I know he takes payoffs to either push or bury case publicity and I am sure that he has deliberately leaked unfavorable press about the police department before. He has also made some unflattering investigations go away when they involved important figures. There was a brief flare last year when that Councilman was caught driving drunk in the company of a lady who was not his wife."  
  
"Yeah, I remember that, it made the papers on Monday and was gone Tuesday. So the guy is definitely up to something. I just wonder what it is."  
  
"That concerns me as well. I am not sure whether he is trying to gain favor with Irons by solving this, or with others by proving a cover up or something on Vorschlag."  
  
"Can you prove he is dirty? I mean we can't really do anything unless we have something more that suspicion." she asked.  
  
"Sara," he said in a hurt tone, that caused her to look back at him. He was looking at her under lowered eyes, his long hair curling around his face. God, how do you resist that look, she thought. He looks like such a little boy sometimes.  
  
"Ok, Ok, you know how to do your job. I don't even want to know how you got all this so fast. And don't tell me, please. But we can't get rid of him right now." She thought about what she had said and tried to rephrase it. She was pretty sure that he had already considered the requirements involved for that. "We can't turn him in right now. That might arouse a lot of suspicion, especially now. It could be useful later." She sighed, adding this to the piles of information that she really hadn't dealt with and wondered how to bring up the subject of Danny. Ian was a little jumpy where her partner was concerned, and rightly so, considering. It would be so easy for a problem to develop between them, they were both a little overprotective and the last thing she needed was the two of them at odds. She decided to just go ahead and explain what happened. With him close and secure it might be easier, certainly it was making her feel more comfortable. It had been a very long time sense she was this comfortable just sitting around talking to someone, holding him. In a way she was getting as comfortable with him as she was with Danny, with some major important differences. Danny was like a brother to her, and she felt anything but sisterly about Ian. "Ian, there is another thing. Danny."  
  
"Yes?" he said questioningly.  
  
"When I came to see you earlier, I covered it by telling him I had a contact at Vorschlag."  
  
"Which you do," he said, patiently, wondering what she was getting at.  
  
"Yeah, well, I told him it was someone in Security. I didn't tell him it was you. He thought you were just my." she was trying to find a good way to say it without embarrassment.  
  
"Lover?" he said quietly. "Isn't that what we led him to believe this morning?" The soft way he said the word raised her heart rate.among other things. It was such an old fashioned way of saying it, so much more elegant than boyfriend. For a moment she wondered if he really understood what was going on, what she was feeling. She tried to refocus herself on the task at hand. The faster they got this out in the open the faster they could try and find a solution.  
  
"Yes, but."  
  
"And I am still in Security, if you wish to stretch the point."  
  
"He found your photograph in the background files when we got back to the office."  
  
"Yes?" he said with concern, sensing that there was something important here. He knew that the relationship between himself and Vorschlag posed a potential problem with her investigating the case and he had really hoped that her partner would not have the opportunity to put it together.  
  
"You know that you are a potential suspect in this case."  
  
"Sara, you know that I had nothing to do with."  
  
"I gave you an alibi, told him you were with me at the time," she said, clearly upset. "I lied to my partner."  
  
"I'm sorry that you felt it necessary to cover for me," he told her sincerely, secretly pleased at her concern for him."  
  
"I don't like lying to my partner, but we can't explain the truth, and I sincerely doubt you have an alibi that Danny would believe."  
  
"Actually, at the time I was here, on the roof across the street," he told her quietly, shutting away the memories, the pain he was feeling. Those hours he had spent after turning the Lance over to his father were some of the worst of his life.and the loneliest. He had fled the mansion, afraid of the outcome of his actions. Wandering alone for hours, all night and into the next day until finally, exhausted he arrived at Sara's and sat watching her, late into the night. She felt his body stiffen against hers as he recalled the past. She reached behind her and put the back of her hand against his chin, trying to remind him that he was safe.  
  
"And now you don't have to. You no longer need to be alone in the dark and cold." She turned and smiled at him. He leaned down, putting his cheek against her hair, taking comfort from her presence. "The point is, I had to tell him some of it. I didn't mention your relationship to Irons, or any of the other things." like I killed him, she added to herself. ". but it occurs to me that some of it is going to have to come out. When it does, I want warning so I can tell him first. I promised him that I would tell him what I could, when I could, I also told him I wouldn't tell your secrets without your permission."  
  
"Thank you for that. I know you trust your partner, but I don't know him. It will take time." Sara leaned closer to him, trying to relax and to think. He was taking all of this pretty well after a pretty strangely sheltered upbringing. She shifted restlessly in his arms, suddenly aware of something hard digging into her back.  
  
"What is that digging into my back?" she asked, sitting up suddenly. Her movement startled Ian, and he released her, pulling back before he realized what he was doing. Sara just continued as if nothing had happened, ignoring the sudden moves and the guarded look that pasted over his face for a brief moment in her search for the source of her irritation. She looked down saw the old-fashioned watch chain hanging from his vest pocket. Following her gaze, Ian pulled the watch out to show her.  
  
"It was my father's," he told her. "He kept it will him always, it just seemed appropriate somehow." He broke off, trying to find a way to explain that made sense his need to have a little piece of his father with him. He wondered if she would ever understand, the bond, the love and hate that he held for the man who had given him his life. How could he possibly explain that no matter what he would always be grateful for the preparation Irons had given him to fulfill his destiny, to protect Sara? That no matter what, that fact alone made it worth it. But he was pretty certain that to explain it in those terms would frighten her, drive her away. She was still getting accustomed to his "mythical mumbo-jumbo", it was probably more than she was prepared to accept, for now.  
  
Sara just accepted his comment, understanding the feeling even as she knew this was not a discussion for tonight. They had enough on their minds without adding Irons back into the mix any more than was necessary. She realized that, aside from his gloves and jacket, he was still dressed for work. It struck her that he really didn't know all that much about getting comfortable, relaxing. Maybe it was time for him to start. She wondered again if she was pushing too fast, too hard, but having him sit around the apartment looking like a GQ cover model was enough to make her feel edgy, not to mention underdressed.  
  
"Wouldn't you be more comfortable if you changed?" she commented quietly, looking him in the eye. "Or at least took off your tie and vest?" Ian looked down at his clothes. Impulsively Sara reached over and undid the top button of his vest without a thought. Ian sat trying not to bolt or think too much about what she was doing, asking of him. He was still working out the protocol for the situation. Nothing in his life had ever prepared him for this and he was finding it hard to know how to act. Slowly, he removed his vest and tie and put them over the arm of the couch carefully, moving as if in a trance. He even undid the top button of his white dress shirt, which suddenly seemed to be constricting his breathing.  
  
"Much better," Sara said, leaning back against him. He reached his arms around her again, intensely aware of the feel of her through the thin fabric of the shirt. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation, even as it made him want to run from her. His heart was racing, and he concentrated hard on controlling his breathing. "Comfortable?" she asked him.  
  
"Kind of." he told her after a moment, when he had gotten his voice back under control.  
  
"Do you want me to move?"  
  
"Not for all the world," he said emphatically, patting her a little awkwardly. Sara smiled. He was getting the hang of this. 


	14. Part 4 F

She was in a dream; of that at least Sara was sure, a sweet, intense, erotic dream. She couldn't tell where or when, yet again she was in the back of someone else's mind, sharing their memories. All she knew was the darkness of the enclosed bed, the feel of fur beneath her, and Ian, or someone who looked like him. The hair was longer, the beard shaggier, but the eyes were the same, those warm, expressive eyes that made her heart beat faster. He was with her, kissing her, the soft brush of his beard against her skin arousing and maddening. She pressed closer, fingers tangling in his long hair, legs entwined with his, wanting him so badly it was a dull ache. He raised his head and looked at her, those dark eyes lit from within and laughed a little before returning to his teasing. She growled low in her throat, the Witchblade warm on her wrist, responding to her feelings, it's swirling colours adding a soft light and.woke up suddenly in her own bed, drenched with sweat as the alarm went off. She rose hurriedly and half ran to the bathroom before Ian even moved. She closed the door behind her and turned the shower on cold. Maybe after that she would be ready or at least able to look Ian in the eye.  
  
She stepped into a really cold shower, hoping to get her thoughts and feelings back in their place. These shared dreams or memories or whatever they were, they were getting worse. It was hard to think clearly or anything. She tried to focus, to separate what was her and what was the other Wielder in the dream, to get an idea, if it was just her or one of those strange pseudo-memories, but she just couldn't concentrate on it. How was she supposed to figure out what was going on in her life with this thing interfering? Was it a memory or what she wanted to happen? She took several deep breaths and focused on trying to start her day. What was it trying to do, push them together? Or was it just wishful thinking on her part? Damn all this round and round was not going to solve anything, it was just going to make her late for work. She sighed and stepped out of the shower, determined to put it out of her mind and concentrate on getting ready to go.  
  
Ian rose slowly from the floor, listened for the shower to start and then began to fold his bedding. He needed to get his mind cleared. Did Sara share this dream with him, he wondered. Was this his dream or hers? He was no longer able to separate the two. Certainly she had taken off for the bathroom hurriedly enough. But it had saved him trying to look at her with the dream still burning in his eyes. He knew that dreams were meant to teach, or so Irons had always told him, but what was he to learn from this? He loved Sara; he wanted to have a relationship with her. He put on the coffee and began his kata, hoping that the movement would help to clear his mind and let him focus. Slowly he slid through the familiar series of moves, letting his muscles take over and relax while his mind distanced itsself from the person in the dream, the one who was and was not him. In the dream he was so confident, so sure of her feelings. How did he begin to reconcile that image with his own image of himself? Sara had made it clear that she was interested in pursuing a further relationship with him but he had trouble accepting his own worthiness for the role. He continued to move, finding comfort in the familiar patterns, warming the body and stilling the mind, at least for the moment. He finished the first set and began another, even more complex, pushing his body a little harder, trying to create a calm inside himself, usually so easy but today more trying that ever before.  
  
Leaving the bathroom to prepare for work, Sara was surprised to see Ian throwing his clothes into his bag. "What are you doing Ian?"  
  
"Just gathering up my things," he told her as he finished and straightened up, taking the bag with him.  
  
"Are you leaving?" she asked with a sudden concern. While she was a little confused, she knew for sure that she did not want him to leave before they had worked out this relationship between them and she had been pretty sure that he was not anxious to.  
  
"Would you like me to leave?" he asked, strangely formal as he had been all morning.  
  
"No, of course not, but I come out of the bathroom and see you packing what do you expect me to think?" She was a little glad for his mood after the intense dream which had awakened her. A little distance was probably a good thing right now, but still.  
  
"I am sorry that you got the wrong impression, I was just planning on sending them home for new ones."  
  
"Oh, that makes sense, but you could have just asked me to throw them in the wash."  
  
"Sara, I would not want to put you out." Great, she thought, he is still being formal, over laundry, am I ever going to figure him out? She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a cup of coffee, grateful that he had thought to put it on when he didn't even drink the stuff. He makes me coffee, but won't put me out with his laundry.  
  
"But you will have to go home sometime, won't you?" she asked, the smallest bit of concern showing in her voice. It was like they had created a little bubble of peace here, and she didn't want anything to disturb that. He came into the kitchen, dropping his bag on the table.  
  
"Yes," he admitted, pleased beyond words that she was so adamant about his staying. But his visit with Immo had reminded him of his duty, to the staff, to his father. He needed to go home, not immediately but soon. The idea was both pleasing and frightening, no matter what, it was still the only home he had ever known. "Sara, would you come with me?" he asked, a little shyly. She took a deep breath, not wanting to let him know just how much the idea frightened her.  
  
"If you really want me to. But we might want to wait until Saturday, when I'm off. Then we will have a little time." She tried to keep it light. No big deal, just a return to the place where I killed your father, she thought guiltily. It was not going to be easy for either of them but he was right. He couldn't hide from the memories forever, her either. Not if they wanted to make a relationship. She couldn't make him. "Are you sure you want me to?"  
  
"Better for us to face our demons together," he told her, sensing her concern. "Guard each others backs?" He tried to smile at her, cover for both their nervousness. "Sara, I have been changing, trying to find a way to make a new life. It is easy to be different here, away from everything I have known. I am not sure how I will feel when I am back there; if you are beside me it will be easier. And if I am with you perhaps I can help you forget? Begin to share my home with you as you have with me? I want you to understand." There was a pleading look in his eyes was impossible to resist. Puppy dog eyes, why do I have to go for the guys with the big brown puppy dog eyes? She nodded her agreement.  
  
"Thank you, Sara. Besides, we need to go back. There are answers there, about the Witchblade. My father did have the largest collection of data on it. He taught me a lot, but there is still much more we need to learn. He was the real expert. It will be hard to find the time, but I will manage."  
  
A sudden thought occurred to her. "Gabriel,"  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"Gabriel Bowman, he is a friend, he owns."  
  
"Talismaniac, my father made purchases from him. The collection has needed to be professionally archived for years, but Irons was unwilling to allow a stranger near enough to work on it." He gave her a little smile and she was amused at the mental picture of Irons, hoarding his relics like a child with his Christmas toys. In some ways it reminded her of Gabriel. The match would be perfect. "But can he be trusted? There are reasons besides paranoia that Irons was not willing to let others near. Do you think he would be willing to help?"  
  
"Because he knows about this thing and he is a friend. He is a good kid and he loves this kind of stuff. I can ask him, but I don't think it will be a problem."  
  
"Well, I would be more than willing to pay him whatever is fair. It will help us and needs to be taken care of in any case."  
  
"He would probably do it for free, but throw money into the mix and I am pretty sure he would be glad to do it. I will call him when I get a minute." She smiled at him, glad that they had managed to get away from the subject of the house and onto a subject with a practical solution, no emotions, no mysticism, just a simple case of finding the right answers.  
  
"He has at least passed the security screening."  
  
"The what? Nottingham did you." There was a rising note of temper in her voice but she was cut off.  
  
Ian laughed. "No Sara, I do not have checks run on everyone you know. Irons had me do them on everyone he dealt with. He believed in being.cautious."  
  
"You mean paranoid," she said a little sarcastically. He shrugged; it was not the first time that he had heard that comment, or even thought it.  
  
"He wanted to know who he was dealing with. I merely carried out the order."  
  
"Well, Gabriel has been reliable for me and I trust him."  
  
"Then since you trust him, in this case I shall as well. It does make life a bit less complicated. I was a little concerned about where I would find the time. Will you ask him? I am sure that it would be an easier task."  
  
"Sure, I'll call him and see what I can do. The sooner we get someone on this the better. It's not like I don't have enough on my plate at the moment."  
  
"Yes, you do. When are you and your partner going to want to interview me?" he asked, changing the subject as he put his gloves on and moved his ring over them. She gave a quick glance at the clock and realized that she had spent way to much time talking and not enough time getting ready.  
  
"We should probably get it over with. Do you have time this afternoon?"  
  
"Yes, but don't wait for me to eat dinner, I will be a little late tonight." Suddenly the intense domesticity of the scene struck them both as funny. They laughed together a little self-consciously; only a few days earlier they had been all but enemies. Now they were discussing dinner plans and he had a key to the apartment. It gave Ian a sense of confidence that was beyond anything he had felt before, a sense of hope. Suddenly he leaned forward and kissed Sara, although he kept his hands at his sides. It was a warm, quick kiss, over before she could respond. He quickly grabbed his bag and was gone through the door. 


	15. Part 4 G

Sara and her partner entered the Vorschlag building ten minutes early for their three o'clock meeting with Ian Nottingham. They went to the desk and were sent straight through to the private elevator. "Well, he has some pull around here, I'll say that for him," Danny said, trying not to be impressed and failing. He was not particularly comfortable with the whole situation. He knew Sara's taste for tattooed bad boys and when he had first met Nottingham, he thought she had made a change. Now he was unsure, head of Security for Vorschlag, that made him think that maybe she had just found one with better dress sense. He suspected that this guy was dangerous, and he was not inclined to let his partner get hurt.  
  
"Yeah, something like that." Sara tried to keep it light. They arrived at the top floor and were escorted to the office by the same nervous gentleman who had done the same for Sara yesterday. Sara hid her amusement, wondering how long the poor guy would last. Nottingham obviously made him jumpy, but then he had that effect on a lot of people. Ian stood up as they entered, turning off the computer screen.  
  
"Sara, Detective Woo, I'm sorry we have to meet again under these circumstances." He shook Danny's hand politely, and gave her a very warm smile. "Please sit down." He indicated the couch in the corner. Sara was amazed at how like his father he was at this moment, although she knew it was only a façade, a way of getting through the day. Ian took the chair and Sara gave Danny the place on the couch near him, preferring to let Danny take the lead, to avoid perceived improprieties.  
  
"Nice office," Danny commented a little sarcastically. He was unsure what to make of this guy. It was obvious that he meant something to Sara, here he was playing at being a businessman, but there was something about him that niggled in the back of Danny's mind. He moved with the grace of a man with long years of physical training and there was an energy about him, like a tightly coiled spring wrapped to tightly.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Irons permitted me the use of it for this interview, as he is not here and mine is too small."  
  
"I thought Mr. Irons was missing," Danny asked coldly "Never believe everything you hear in the media, Detective, it is frequently unreliable. Mr. Irons is a private man. He is at home, or at least was the last time I saw him," he said calmly.  
  
"Then why do so many people seem to think that something has happened to him?" Danny asked, a little aggressively. . His antagonism was obvious and while Ian was trying to remain calm in deference to Sara, it was apparent to him that the detective was going to make this difficult for him.  
  
"I have no idea, Detective," Ian answered coldly. "I am hardly responsible for what people believe, nor am I responsible for Mr. Irons behavior, just his safety." Sara sat trying to hold her temper, watching the two most important men in her life snipe at each other.  
  
"And how can you look after his safety here, if he isn't with you?"  
  
"I don't presume to tell you how to do your job, Detective, please grant me that same courtesy. I have duties here as well and, as I am sure you are aware, the estate has the best security available."  
  
"Didn't seem to do those two bodies we have downtown any good."  
  
"They were certainly not killed while under my protection." Ian had gone stiff and his eyes were cold with warning. Sara had lost patience with the verbal sparing match, afraid they were about to come to blows. They were circling like a pair of dogs spoiling for a fight, and she was not in the mood. She stood up, catching both of them with her glare.  
  
"Knock it off you two, this is ridiculous," she broke in angrily. "You both know why we are here, and I expect you to act like adults." She fixed her partner with a steely gaze, "Danny, you've been my partner since the academy. And Ian," she looked over to him. "You know our relationship is making this case difficult for me. The least you can both do is to act your age and let us get through this as easily as possible." She turned her back on both of them and started toward the door. Danny watched in shock as Ian rose with amazing speed to intercept her, his concern obvious in his movement.  
  
"Sara, I'm sorry, please."  
  
"Yeah, Partner, I was out of line, let's try this again, ok?" Sara gave them both a black look but returned to the couch.  
  
"All right, Mr. Nottingham, I have to ask you about the circumstances regarding the deaths of two directors of this company." Danny began, starting with the standard questions. Sara sat back and watched as they played nice, working through the list with speed. They were doing pretty well, the simplicity of the interrogation making things a little easier.  
  
As they began to work out the timetable for the last day of the two victims' lives, they were interrupted by the ring of Sara's cell. She nodded for them to continue, figuring that they were finally safe to be left alone, and stepped outside to answer the call.  
  
"Pezzini," she practically barked at the phone, anxious to get it over with. They were doing better but she did not want to leave them alone too long.  
  
"Hey, chief, you called me." Gabriel's cheery voice greeted her.  
  
"Gabriel, I don't have a lot of time at the moment, but I need to talk to you. You free tonight? I think I have a proposition for you."  
  
"Hey, Sara, if you've changed your mind, then."  
  
"Knock it off, I meant a business proposition, don't get any bright ideas."  
  
"Hey, no problem, just kidding. Does this business proposition involve, uh, your little toy? Because last time."  
  
"Yes, and no, I'll let you know tonight, ok?"  
  
"Sure, why don't I bring pizza and you can fill me in, unless you have plans?"  
  
"No, that will work, say 6:30?"  
  
"I'll be there."  
  
Danny and Ian finished the timetable and then sat and looked at each other cautiously. Danny was trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say to the strange man sitting across from him. Finally as the silence was getting deafening, he decided to just be blunt.  
  
"I don't know what the deal is with you and Sara. But I want make something clear, if you hurt her, I will find a way to kill you. I am not going to let you play her, she doesn't need that."  
  
"Detective Woo, if I ever hurt her, you will not have to, for I will be unable to live with myself." There was true sincerity in his voice, and Danny realized that he actually believed him. In his own way that disconcerted him more than anything else. Sara had said she trusted him with her life, and now he sitting here saying he would give his life for her. This was definitely not her run of the mill relationship. He sort of wished that it was. There was definitely something very intense going on between the two of them and he was not sure whether that was a good thing. He just looked at Ian and nodded, as Sara came back in and returned to her place.  
  
The two of them were sitting there quietly, both looking at her. Since there were no bruises or other signs, she concluded that they must have managed to act like adults during her little absence.  
  
"Ok, what did I miss?" she asked casually.  
  
"Just finished with the schedule. Now for the next bit, thought I would wait for you, partner."  
  
"Ok, then lets get this over with. I am pretty sure that our desks are sinking in more paper by the minute."  
  
"Ok, Mr. Nottingham, now as to your whereabouts on the evening of the 16th of November. Why weren't you present at the meeting, if I may ask?" he continued, getting closer to the heart of the matter.  
  
"I normally would not attend unless necessary or unless it was being held in another location, although it is not unusual for me to be in the house at the time. However on that particular evening I was with a friend," he answered.  
  
"And the name of that friend? I have to ask for the record, sorry."  
  
"Detective Sara Pezzini, I arrived at her home at around five o'clock and did not leave until after midnight." Ian looked at Sara and she nodded confirmation to her partner.  
  
"Yes, she has already told me that. Listen, off the record, I won't bring her into this if at all possible, but if we need it, nice to know."  
  
"Gee, thanks, Danny, talk about me like I'm not here," she said sarcastically. Some of her good humor had returned with the routine of police work, and she was feeling a bit more comfortable. Danny looked at Ian significantly and he gave a small smile in return, male solidarity asserting itself.  
  
"Thank you, Detective Woo, I truly appreciate that. If you need any further assistance, please contact me," Ian said as he rose gracefully from his place. Danny and Sara rose as well. Ian shook hands with Danny, who promptly headed out the door.  
  
"I'll go get those files, Sara, why don't you catch up?" he called over his shoulder as he exited. The minute he left the room, she laughed. Ian gave her a look of surprise.  
  
"He is giving us time to say a private goodbye," she told him.  
  
"Oh, I see," he responded and reached for her hand, she let him, sliding her thumb under his glove. He closed his eyes for a moment, then raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm.  
  
"I'll see you tonight then, the phone call was from Gabriel, he is going to come by before you get home." she said, walking towards the door with Ian following.  
  
"Very well, hopefully you can convince him to aid us. That would take one worry from your shoulders." He said, continuing to hold her hand in his for a long moment before releasing her.  
  
"I hope so," she said and started to walk out to meet her partner, who was standing at the desk, a knowing smile on his face. As she left she called back over her shoulder to him. "Hey, Ian, see you at home." He looked up at her retreating back as the words warmed him deep into his soul. 


	16. Part 4 H

There was a knock at the door and Sara opened it to admit Gabriel Bowman and the promised pizza. He was wearing one of his more subdued tee shirts under a paisley button down that was probably vintage and definitely loud. She shook her head and let him into the apartment, directed him to the kitchen, taking the pizza from him and putting it on the coffee table. "Get us some drinks, and we can get down to business."  
  
"No problem. Hey, there's food in here," he commented, grabbing a couple bottles of water from the refrigerator.  
  
"It's a refrigerator, there is usually food in it, smart guy."  
  
"Yeah, but it's yours, this is real food, not like old take out containers and milk."  
  
"Well, I have had a friend staying with me for a few days," she told him. "Now you had better get over here or there won't be anything left for you."  
  
"I'm coming. Man, you get testy when you haven't eaten, you know that?"  
  
"Hey, I asked you here to offer you a job, don't give me a hard time." Sara opened the box and started to dig into the pizza. Gabriel joined her and the next few minutes were spent stuffing themselves with hot food.  
  
"So about this business deal you have for me? It's not exactly like you to go out and pick up clients for me." Gabriel started as he watched her finish another slice of pizza.  
  
"It sort of fell into my lap." She took a deep breath and tried to find a good way to ask. "How would you like to get paid to look into this thing?" she asked, pointing to the Witchblade where it sat quietly on her wrist.  
  
"I don't get it, I told you I would look into it for you, no big deal. You are a friend. What's up?"  
  
"This is something a little bigger. I need someone I can trust, for something very serious."  
  
"And you thought of me? I think I am flattered, but what are you getting me into?" He was getting a little nervous about this. Sara was usually running a mile a minute and expecting him to keep up. Now she was beating around the bush and that bothered him, a lot. He covered it by grabbing another piece of pizza and starting to eat, waiting for her to explain.  
  
Sara decided that being blunt was the best course of action. "I need someone to look through the Vorschlag collection." Gabriel tried to talk, eat and breathe at the same time, resulting in the pizza going down the wrong way. He started coughing and sputtering, smacking himself on the chest as his eyes started to tear.  
  
Sara jumped off the couch and started pounding him on the back, trying to help. Gabriel started breathing, trying to get his brain working again. "Did I hear you right? I could have sworn that you just asked me to get into the Vorschlag stuff. That is like, legendary. I know some of what Irons bought, the stuff that I sold to the guy I suspect of being his middleman, and some of it that people I know got for him. But how exactly am I going to get near enough."  
  
"Just a minute, hang on and let me answer one question at a time. I'm not asking you to do anything illegal. This is all up front. It's complicated."  
  
"Yeah, no kidding. Now you want to explain this to me a little better? I mean, Irons is big time, not someone that I want to get in trouble with. Besides he's dead, isn't he?"  
  
"Yes, although you keep that to yourself? OK? And just because Irons is gone, that doesn't mean that Vorschlag is just going to fold up and go away." She sighed. "Listen, I'm asking you to look through the stuff, learn anything you can about the Witchblade. Sound like a good deal?"  
  
"I'd give my right arm to get close to that stuff, you know that. But what's the catch? And who's paying me for this?" Gabriel was torn, Irons scared him, dead or not, but the prospect of getting to go through the collection and getting paid to do so was the chance of a lifetime. And he did have some interesting things or so the rumors went.  
  
Sara was trying to find a way to explain. "Listen, Gabriel, I have a friend who is kind of in charge, now that Irons is gone. He knows about the Witchblade and wants to help, but he doesn't have the time and neither do I. I figured you would be interested so I asked him if you could help."  
  
"And just who is this friend?" He asked, having a sinking feeling he knew the answer.  
  
"His name is Ian Nottingham, why, do you know him?"  
  
"I may, there was a guy who used to pick stuff up, tall, black hair, no sense of humor? That the guy?"  
  
"Sounds right, and he knew about you." She said calmly. No wonder Ian had wanted her to do this. She wondered what Ian had done to Gabriel, other than intimidate him.  
  
"Sara, what are you doing with that guy? I mean, you didn't exactly like Irons and he worked for him. What's the connection?"  
  
"I told you it's complicated, but I trust him, and I'm asking you to trust me."  
  
"You I trust, but still, that guy gives me the cold shivers. I tried talking to him once when he was making a pick up and he just looked right through me, like he was wondering how many different ways he could kill me without breaking a sweat."  
  
He probably was, she thought. It was easy to see how the hyper Gabriel could get on Ian's nerves, and visa versa. There was something intimidating about him at the best of times and in the confined space of the shop, she could easily imagine how he would scare Gabriel. She sat back and began to lay out her plan to him.  
  
An hour later, when he left, she had secured his promise to call Ian to make the arrangements. Now that she had done the set up the rest should be no problem. Gabriel's curiosity had won out as she knew it would. That boy would give just about anything for the opportunity, and getting paid for it only made it better in his estimation. She figured that once he and Ian got talking about that stuff they would get over their differences pretty quickly. Sara got up from the couch, throwing out the box and straightening up a little. She was not sure when Ian would be back, but she knew he would at least be thrilled that she had managed to get Gabriel's agreement. She wondered how long it would take Gabriel to call him. Considering his barely controlled excitement, she didn't think it would take too long. She put on some music before returning to the couch. 


	17. Part 4 I

Ian returned to Sara's apartment late, letting himself in with the key. It felt strange to do so, not only to be allowed here but to have his own key. Not that it was the first time he had let himself in.but this was different, he now had a right to be here. He lay his bag down, locked the door behind him and glanced over to see Sara asleep on the couch. He took off his coat and put his bag away, returning to find her still out. Ian watched her sleep for a minute, while he removed his jacket, and after a thought, his vest and tie as well. Turning back his cuffs, he removed the gloves that so offended her, tucking them away in his coat pocket. He thought about waking her, but she looked so comfortable.  
  
She was so very special, even though she still did not see it. Her acceptance amazed him even while it pleased him. He had spent most of his life serving his father, dealing with problems. He had killed professionally. It did not really bother him as it was his duty. They were professionals as well, trying to kill him, or more likely, Irons. It was part of the job he had been raised and trained to do, but it was not something he expected that Sara would understand or accept. They had not talked about his work, something they just left out between them. After all, one should never discuss criminal activity with a member of the police force, even if they had been duly bought and paid for, and Sara was not that kind of police officer anyway. That was one of the things that he found so special about her, her job meant so much to her, protect and serve, as he had always done for her and for his father. He shook his head impatiently, his musings getting him nowhere. He knelt down beside her, trying to figure out what to do.  
  
At least her dreams were peaceful, he thought, as he watched her, not the least bit restless as they were usually. Dreams.he never use to have them often, but the last few nights.He put those thoughts away, again. He had barely been able to face her this morning, afraid she would see his desire laid bare on his face. He knew she wanted more between them, he wanted more between them, but he just was not sure how they should precede. It had embarrassed him at first to view Sara as a woman after all those years, but more and more he had found himself thinking of her as a lover, no longer a sibling of sorts. That had never been a valid analogy anyway. As Ian had gotten older, he had become aware that his father viewed her as something else entirely and it had angered, even frightened him. The idea of Irons touching her was abhorrent to him. Jealousy was a very ugly feeling and to be jealous of your own father.  
  
He left it, trying to focus on the practical. He could not leave her to sleep here, but did not want to wake her. Besides, it was just not a good idea to wake a sleeping police officer, and she was so comfortable. He opened his mind up just enough to make her aware of his presence, enough to let her know that he was there. Sara shifted in her sleep and smiled.  
  
Ian was fascinated. Moving forward, he slid his hand along her check, just barely touching her. Unable to stop himself, he kissed her very softly.  
  
"Do you always wait 'til I'm asleep?" she asked, her drowsy voice startling him. He started to back away, but she grabbed his arm.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sara," he said, dropping his head out of habit and to hide his embarrassment.  
  
"Damn it Ian, will you look at me?" She had snapped out of sleep and was working on irritation in a hell of a hurry. "Why do you do that?"  
  
"I did not mean to, I.I could not resist."  
  
"That is not what I meant and you know it."  
  
"I was trained that way. Old habits are hard to break," he admitted to her as he raised his head and looked into her clear, green eyes. It was getting easier every day to relax, but some things were still reflex.  
  
Sara closed her eyes and pushed the irritation away with an effort, although she added it to the mental list of things she wanted to take Kenneth Irons to task for. Unfortunately with him dead, she knew it was a hopeless desire. At least she had gotten some sleep without a return of last night's dreams. "Will you at least stop apologizing for kissing me? It is a part of a normal relationship," she told him pointedly sitting up a little.  
  
"I'm not, actually," he said. "Apologizing for kissing you, that is, only for disturbing your sleep. You were very comfortable." Those big, brown eyes had a funny effect on her breathing and she considered giving him another lesson about kissing, but was not sure how he would react. He was still a highly trained and dangerous man, and his reflexes could make things awkward, regardless of how he felt. And that would definitely qualify as startling. But that did not mean that she couldn't offer. She leaned forward slowly as he watched, offering her lips to him.  
  
The reassuring look in her eyes was too much for him to resist. He moved closer, pressing his lips to hers, just a brush at first, very gently. But when she did not try to move away, he continued his exploration, taking his time to revel in the texture, the taste of her. So different from the kisses they had shared over the last few days, more than the simple brush of lips, but less aggressive than those other explosions of passion that had left him startled, frightened and hungry for more. She leaned closer; putting her hands on his shoulders to support herself, keep her from falling off the couch. Ian accepted her weight easily, moving his hands to accommodate her motion. She parted her lips and he began to explore, taking his cue from her, learning as he went, enjoying the dance. It was so much more than he had ever expected, so easy to express himself, to show her how he felt. He leaned back a little, pulling her more towards him, half on, half off the couch, letting himself get lost in the simple intimacy of kissing, of her leaning against him.  
  
Sara was amazed, he was definitely a fast learner. The simple joy in him was amazing. He was in no hurry, not trying to push things any faster, just enjoying what they were doing. There was no pressure, none of the urgency to get to other things. His enjoyment was contagious and she tried to remember when she last enjoyed kissing someone so much. She leaned in a little more, completely trusting his strong hands to support her as she reached up and ran her fingers through his hair and felt his sigh against her lips. His eyes, closed a little and he pulled her a little closer. Sara had no idea where this was leading, but she was more than willing to follow. She was feeling things that were both familiar and not, the sensation of being this close to him was stirring up all kinds of emotions that she was not in any fit state to examine at the moment. She gave in completely to the feelings, analyzing could come later. From somewhere in the distance, a ringing sound started, like an annoying fly buzzing just out of reach. "Damn," Sara muttered against him as she recognized the phone through the haze.  
  
"Let it ring," Ian growled a little against her lips, not willing to interrupt this moment for anything less than earth shattering. It was startling to hear him like that as he tugged her a little closer. The sound of Danny's voice over the answering machine brought them both back to earth suddenly.  
  
"Hey, Pez, pick up, we got a call." 


	18. Part 4 J

They broke apart reluctantly, Ian lifting her easily so that she could get to her feet and grab the phone. As she picked up she looked over at him, the sweet longing look in his eyes making it even harder to steady her voice as she got the details from her partner and really considered taking this interruption out on whoever was responsible.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ian, we have a body. I need to go." He nodded his understanding a resigned and sad look on his face. "We can talk when I gat back?" she asked, trying to get an idea of his frame of mind.  
  
"Of course," he told her, and then he smiled. The warmth of his smile reassured her that he was handling things pretty well, considering. She just wanted to hit something. Leaving him alone, she wandered into the bathroom.  
  
Ian stood still in the middle of the room, wondering where his concentration had suddenly gone. He pushed down the anger and frustration that had risen suddenly with the phone call. He had kissed her, a true kiss, and she had encouraged it. It had been so sweet, so wonderful, and then duty interfered. He understood duty; he had spent his entire life doing his duty. Duty was as important to Sara as it was to him; it was part of what he loved about her. But at the moment he wished that they could both forget their duties and just be together. He spent a few moments centering himself and began to get ready. If Sara was going out, he was going with her.  
  
Sara pulled herself together as she got ready to go out on her call. The kiss had really disrupted her concentration. It had felt really good just to kiss him, to be held that way. He was so strong, and yet so incredibly gentle. Ian had held her with ease, and she had never been afraid, never occurred to her that he might drop her. She was trying not to think about where they were going before they were interrupted. It wasn't like either one of them were unaware of the attraction between them, but Ian wanted her love or nothing, and in spite of her own growing feelings for him, she was just not ready to take that step, not yet. She gave up the internal third degree as she headed back into the other room. This was something that could be dealt with later.  
  
Sara returned to the living room ready to get this call over with so she could come back and try to salvage the evening. Maybe they could try to recapture the mood when she returned. Ian was standing there, looking for all the world like he was on his way out the door as well.  
  
"Where do you think you are going?" she asked, pretty sure she knew what he was going to say.  
  
"I thought I would drive you,"  
  
"I appreciate the offer but no, there is no need for you to hang around while I do this. Its pretty routine."  
  
"But."  
  
"Ian, please don't argue. I don't need a baby sitter. Just wait for me ok?"  
  
"If that is what you want," he told her, giving in more easily that she would have dreamed possible.  
  
"Oh, Gabriel is going to be calling you. He agreed to help us, and I told him to work out the details with you. Please try not to scare him."  
  
"Sara, you know I would not do anything to harm your friend."  
  
"I know that but he's not so sure, just go easy on him, okay?"  
  
"Very well, I will be on my best behavior," he told her. Great, she thought sarcastically, that should make him feel so much better. Sara walked over and grabbed her coat and helmet.  
  
"That will have to do."  
  
Ian waited long enough for Sara to get her bike around the corner before following her. It felt good to get back to his real job. He knew he was taking a risk but after all she had not specifically told him not to follow her. But if she ever discovered the benefits of precise speech, he was going to have a problem. Living with Irons had taught him the value of paying attention to exactly what was said. He would not lie to her, not directly, however neither would he allow her to go out unprotected if it was within his power to stop it. She need never know, after all, he had never told her where he would wait for her. He did not like playing these games with her, but until he found a way to make her understand, he would do what was necessary.  
  
He found a dark spot in the corner of the small group of spectators and watched as she worked the crime scene. It was nice to watch her work, especially when it did not involve this mess with the company. He watched as long as possible, only fading back into the shadows when Sara's partner came to take the names of the witnesses. Still he watched, waited, reassured himself this was nothing but routine, that she was in no danger. He had not come so far with her only to loose her. Soon enough she would learn to control the Witchblade, to fight even better, but still he would watch out for her. She was all he had now. He knew that it could not stay that way, that he needed to branch out, find a life outside of her, but for now he wanted to concentrate on Sara. There would be time for the rest later, when things were much more stable. He wanted to enjoy his newfound freedom, wanted to explore the world now open to him and Sara wanted to help him. That alone made him warm with excitement. He started to fade back into the familiar shadows when the vibration of his phone startled him. For just a instant, he lost his concentration, and he was caught in the warehouse's security lamp, for just a moment. He faded back, but caught the sight of Sara's partner, looking intently in the spot he had occupied only seconds before. It was a stupid mistake and he hoped that the man did not see him clearly. Ian turned and headed back for the apartment, pulling out his phone, wondering who he needed to take this interruption out on. It was not their night for telephones.  
  
Danny thought he saw movement in the shadows, a figure silhouetted briefly in the security light, and turned to catch a brief glimpse of someone.someone who was about the right size and moved a lot like Sara's new boyfriend, Ian Nottingham. He turned to take a closer look, but the figure was gone. Still, how many people were there who moved with that level of panther smooth precision. The guy flowed like a shadow personified. He shook his head a little, wondering where he had learned those moves. Sara walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, Danny, what you looking at?" Danny did a quick mental calculation and came to the decision not to tell Sara. It was not like he was completely sure, and it was nice to know Nottingham cared enough to keep an eye on her. If Sara found out she would be pissed, and he didn't want to put the poor guy in a bind. Maybe he really needed to rethink his evaluation of the situation. Anyone who cared enough to risk Sara's temper to assure her safety just might be someone who was strong enough to stay with her.  
  
"Nothing. I thought I saw something, but it was just a shadow."  
  
"Let's go then," she said, trying to stay her rising temper, it was not like she needed to explain this to Danny. But she was pretty sure his shadow was not, that it was a good bit more solid than that. Damn it, Nottingham, she thought to herself, if you have been following me again, I will kill you.  
  
When Sara got back to the apartment she found Ian sitting calmly on the couch reading a book. Her immediate reaction had been to yell at him, get angry. But she had no proof, the Witchblade had shown her nothing. Besides, it would do her no good. He was accustomed to anger, he would just bow his head and take it, while she got angrier. She thought about how to handle it as she hung up her jacket and put her helmet away. He looked up innocently as she walked in. He does innocent pretty well, she had to admit to herself.  
  
"So, anything happen while I was gone?" she asked casually.  
  
"Not that I am aware of, although your friend Gabriel called me. He was rather anxious to get started," he told her. He framed his answer very carefully, not wishing to give anything away, but avoiding an outright lie. "Beyond that I have just been doing a bit of reading."  
  
"I was wondering how long it would take him. I am kind of surprised he waited that long."  
  
"Yes, he did seem excited, we will be working out the details later this week." He failed to mention how hard it had been to keep his temper at first, or how contagious the boy's excitement was. Ian had always loved the dusty world of books, even while he knew it was not the one he was destined for. But Gabriel would definitely be an asset to them, someone new to share his love with, now that his father was gone. Perhaps the boy would become more than an ally, maybe a friend? Turning away from those thoughts, he returned to Sara. "How was your call?"  
  
"Yeah, about that. interesting thing happened at the crime scene. My partner thought he saw someone in the shadows,"  
  
"Suspect?" he asked curiously, his face a mask of careful neutrality.  
  
"I don't think so, but I have to wonder, if I checked the hood of your car, would it be warm?"  
  
"What are you accusing me of, Sara?"  
  
"Nothing, but if I thought you were following me again, I might be tempted to run you in for harassing a police officer." There was a faint edge of threat in her voice, and Ian knew that while he had escaped, it was only by the slimmest margin, next time he would have to be much more careful.  
  
"Sara," he said, faintly disapproving. "Did your partner give you a description?"  
  
"No, he said he only thought he saw something." Ian breathed a faint sigh of relief. He had slipped, allowed the call to distract him into revealing himself. Although perhaps he had miscalculated, stayed just a moment too long. He was pretty certain Woo had seen him, but at least he had not told Sara. Perhaps he was trustworthy. Certainly Sara trusted him.  
  
"Not all shapes in the shadows have to be me, Sara."  
  
"No, just usually the ones around me," she answered as she walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. 


	19. Part 4 K

Ian breathed a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind her. He had gotten away with it, just barely. He knew that she had every right to be upset, and if she had proof, she would have been furious. He needed to make her understand, to accept his need to do his duty as he accepted hers. He was also hoping to continue where they left off earlier but that was something that could wait. He really should be concentrating on other things. He stood up and moved to the kitchen to make tea, after all it was cold out and maybe it would soothe her a little, put her in a more receptive mood. He heard the shower start and realized that he had a little time. If he planned it right, maybe she would listen to him. He lit her favorite candles around the room and turned out the lights. He had always been more comfortable in the dark. He walked into the bedroom and grabbed a quilt for her to wrap up in, although he held a small secret hope that she would want to return to last night's "lesson". The thought of her in his arms again thrilled him, distracting him a little from his original goal. Ian looked around the room, pleased. The room looked much softer in the candlelight, and the scent of them was making the room more intimate somehow. It was better but something was missing. He spent a few minutes contemplating it while he made them both tea and moved the mugs over to the coffee table. Music, he thought, that was what it needed. He moved to her stereo, looking through the CD's, trying to find something that would fit. He heard Sara turn off the shower and knew he was running short of time. He picked a likely looking one and put it in the player. The soft sounds reassured him that he had chosen correctly, since he knew nothing of the band, but some how the title had struck a cord, "Legend". He returned to his place on the couch, leaning back against the arm and waited.  
  
Sara stood under the shower, washing the crime scene dirt off of her, wondering what to say to him. She could not have him following her around all the time. He might be Mr. Shadow man, but what if he got caught, how would she explain that. She understood that he felt he had to protect her, from what the 'blade had shown her that was part of the whole thing, kind of like a package deal, but she could take care of herself. But getting angry with him wouldn't do her any good. He would just hang his head and give her that sad look. And she would end up feeling like Irons, treating him like a servant, yelling at him, dominating him. She couldn't do that, couldn't bring herself to do that, to see that look in his eyes when he looked at her. Stepping out of the shower, she dried off and tried to figure out how to talk to him about it. She put on her pajamas and went out to confront him a little calmer that before.  
  
"OK, Nottingham, now we need to talk about this," she told him as she walked into the living room. Her eyes registered the changes and she groped slowing for words. "What.I.?"  
  
Ian looked at her a little alarmed by her reaction. It was not what he had anticipated. "I thought it would help you relax, I wanted to do something for you. Did I do something wrong?"  
  
"No, its just that I wasn't expecting this," she responded. She did not want to make him regret it., he was trying so hard. He looked amazing there in the candlelight, hair loose, dark eyes glowing, all the lines and planes standing out sharply in the dim glow.  
  
"Thank you, it is very nice."  
  
"I made tea, I thought you might need to warm up."  
  
"I think it's getting warmer in here already," she said under her breath. Damn, how does he manage that? Her pulse had sped up and she wondered what to say to him.  
  
"Then you don't need the blanket?" he asked, indicating the quilt he had brought into the room. Sara opened her mouth to reply, but could think of nothing that would make sense to him and not embarrass either one of them. She closed her mouth and shook her head, walking over to join him.  
  
Ian handed her a mug and watched while she sat down on her end of the couch. They sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost on their own thoughts. He looked up at her from below lowered lids, wondering what to say. He wanted her to be near him, nearer than the other side of the couch certainly. Before, he had found it easier to talk to her at a distance, but now all he could think of was getting her closer to him. After years of deprivation, the feel of her was embedding itself in his soul and he wanted more.  
  
"Sara," he said hesitantly. She looked up from her mug and met his eyes. He took a deep breath and tried to find a way to frame the request. "Would you like to." He indicated the spot on the couch in front of him. She smiled at him, proud, knowing that it had taken a lot for him to make the request. But at least he had made it. She set down the mug and moved slowly over to him, shifting to lean back against him. This time there was no hesitation, no need to tell him what to do. He reached out and put his arms around her, sighing into her hair.  
  
Sara leaned back trying for a few moments to just relax. It had been a long day and she just wanted to rest for a minute. It was comfortable and warm up close to him. She wondered at how easy it was, despite his uncertainty; he at least had made the first move. It was a big step for him. Part of her wondered whether he was trying to distract her from the conversation that they should be having, but she could not believe that he was capable of that level of deception. Maybe this was the best way to talk to him anyway, both of them relaxed and secure. "Is this what you were looking for?" she asked him as she settled back against his warmth.  
  
"Yes, thank you. I wanted." He stopped, at a loss for words to describe his feelings, how much he needed to be near her. Sara waited for him to continue, letting him take his time. If she tried to guess all the time he would never learn. "I wanted to be close to you," he finished, sounding lame in his own ears. For once he wished that he had Irons' eloquence, that talking to her could be easy, smooth.  
  
"Ian, if you want to be close to me, just ask." She leaned her head back, looking up into his eyes. Here she was trying to have a conversation about him following her and she ended up snuggling with him on the couch, trying to make him more comfortable. "I know this is all new to you, but it's alright. I want us to be closer, I want you to be comfortable with me."  
  
Ian was shocked, he had no words to tell her how much this all meant to him. He reached over and caressed her shoulder. After so long the simple feel of the cotton pajamas was so soft to the touch. The smell of her hair, the warmth of her back pressed against his body was making it hard to focus on his original plan. How was he supposed to talk to her when every instinct told him to kiss her, to hold on to this moment and not let anything interfere?  
  
Sara sat still, enjoying the feel of his soft hand against her shoulder. She smiled to herself, he felt so good, smelled so good. Between the candles and the music she was being lulled into a strange sense of peace. The feeling was weird and wonderful, thrilling and completely unexpected. She sat there, enjoying the feel of him, letting him trail his hand over her shoulder, down her arm so gentle that she could just barely feel it. When was the last time she was this comfortable just cuddling, she wondered.  
  
Ian was trying to get his thoughts back together, he wanted to continue, but they needed to talk. As much as he wanted to keep going, his honor would not allow him to. He slipped his hand through her hair and listened to her intake of breath. The response was gratifying but distracting, he was trying to hard to do the right thing, but his body did not want to listen to him, his hands had a mind of their own. After years of control, suddenly he was not sure that he knew what he was capable of. He drew back his hand and tried to focus. "Sara, I thought you wanted to talk," he whispered hoarsely into her hair, trying desperately to regain his perspective.  
  
Sara laughed a little, trying to bring herself back to her senses. She turned her head toward him and started to answer when he leaned closer. Her breath caught for a moment and she let it out against his lips. He leaned forward, enjoying the sensation of her breath against his lips. Her smile was inviting and he leaned forward to take a taste. She started to close her eyes but the sight of him was too inviting, the sheer pleasure in his eyes. Somewhere in the back of her mind was the thought that they should be talking but she could not seem to break away. She parted her lips a little encouraging him to continue. There was a reverence in his kiss, his touch that made her heart beat faster, took her breath away. She moved away reluctantly, a remorseful look in her eyes. "You are right, we do need to talk," she said, regretfully.  
  
Ian closed his eyes for a moment, trying to clear his thoughts. While he knew the conversation was important, still it was hard to move away from her sweet lips. "Perhaps we should continue this tomorrow though," he said, "it is getting late." He looked down at her, she looked comfortable in his arms. He could not believe how far they had come. The feel as she stretched against him was unbelievable, he wanted to keep her there forever.  
  
"You've got a point. I still have to work tomorrow. But I am too comfortable to move."  
  
"I could carry you," he offered, smiling at her.  
  
"Yes, but.." Before she could finish the statement, Ian was off the couch, lifting her into his arms. I must be tired, she thought as she leaned into him. I am supposed to be mad at him.  
  
Ian put her down on the bed to let her sleep. He grabbed the sweats and tee-shirt he was using to sleep in and went into the bathroom to change. When he emerged, she was fast asleep, curled up on the bed. He watched for a moment, as he made up his lonely nest on the floor next to her. That was where he belonged, beside her, not with her. It was hard for him, wanting to be so close, even while he knew that he should not. He wondered what was wrong with him. In the last few days he had made two major slips. It just was not like him. He wondered briefly if this was the reason that his father wished him to remain emotionless, could he have been right? Did his feelings for Sara make him more vulnerable? If that was so, he would have to leave her, go back to guarding her from the shadows. He could not allow her to come to harm just to satisfy his own desires, to be a part of her life. The thoughts were bleak, as if his world had just come to a complete standstill. He walked over to the window and slipped out onto the fire escape to meditate, hoping to find inspiration in the cold night.. 


	20. Part 4 L

The nightmare was closing around her and she could not stop it.  She watched as Ian gave his life, sacrificed himself to her safety.  She ran to him, trying to save him but she couldn't.  He slipped to the floor, bleeding his life's blood out on the cold cement floor.  She screamed, cried out his name.  Falling, snow falling on the fresh grave as they stood, facing one another.  The look of loathing on Irons face was like a blow.  Two enemies, facing each other across the grave of a common love.  "It should be you," he told her.  "You never deserved him.  I gave him everything; you gave him nothing but your disdain.  He will do it again, die to save you, forsake a life with you for a cold grave because you give him nothing worth living for, only a cause to die for.  And you will let him, let him walk behind you instead of beside you, be your shadow instead of your light.  What will you do?  Will you let him walk away to protect you?  Or will you learn?"

The sound of her crying his name woke Ian from his nightmare.  He was off the floor, pulling her into his arms before he was even awake, his training taking over, body responding by reflex, without conscious thought.  "Sara, I am here."  He rocked her in his arms, waking her with the warmth of his touch, the sound of his voice.

She opened her eyes, looking into Ian's disturbed brown ones.  "You died, you gave up and died.  You left me alone."  Her voice was full of fear and accusation.  Her tone shook him as did the confirmation of his suspicion about the dreams.  It was clear that the Witchblade was interfering, trying to push them.  But he had no idea what to do with the information.

"Sara, I am here.  You are safe.  Tell me what you saw?" he asked, trying to keep his voice under control.

"Hold me," she asked him.  The dream was still to close and tears were trailing down her checks.  He pulled her closer, brushing the tears away with the back of his hand.

"Tighter, I can't feel you.  I am so cold," she whispered.  He pulled the blankets closer around her and tightened his grip the slightest bit, afraid that he would bruise her if he held her any tighter.

"Sara, I am right here, please.  Tell me?"

"You died, I couldn't stop you, I was standing over your grave with Irons.  He…He told me that I didn't deserve you, that I let you die because I didn't give you anything worth living for," she sobbed harder, crying out all her fear and loss into his arms.  "I can't loose anyone else.  If I get close to you and you leave, or you die…"  She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing as tight as she could.

"Sara, it was a nightmare, it does not mean…"

"It wasn't just a nightmare, it was a lesson."  She looked up at him, certainty plain in every line of her face.  It surprised him, she was usually skeptical, to see her so sure about anything regarding the Witchblade was a revelation to him.  "Promise me."

"Sara, I…"

"Promise me that you won't throw your life away.  If you are going to be my protector, then protect me, stand beside me, but don't give up on me."  Ian was torn, confused.  He did not know what to say.  How could he answer her.  He could not tell her that it was just what he had been planning to do, to give up on her for her own protection.  Obviously, that was not the right answer.  He had let his own self doubt worm its way between them, but he had a chance now to make it right.

"I will not lie to you."  He bowed his head, afraid to look into her eyes.  "I am concerned that my love for you will cause me to make mistakes, that I will fail you."  He tightened his grip on her a little, afraid that if he let go, she would take the chance to back away from him.

"Ian, look at me," she told him.  He looked into her eyes, seeing the resolve there.  "You are not going to fail me."

                "If you can have faith, then I can as well.  But for now you should try to get some sleep." He told her, trying to disentangle himself.  Sara held on, not willing to let go, afraid that the nightmares would return.

"Ian, please don't go.  I…I don't think that I can be alone tonight," she told him.  The look in her eyes convinced him and he nodded, letting her go long enough to join her under the blankets.  She slid back against him, letting his arms wrap around her again.  He could not tell her how much the dream had shaken him as well, or how much he too needed the comfort.

Ian woke a few hours later, while the sky was still dark.  Sara was deeply asleep, curled up so close to him that he could feel every breath.  He slid his arms along her shoulders, reveling in the feel of her skin against his.  It was a sensation like no other and it was getting harder to push it to the back of his mind.  In all his years of isolation he had never really desired such contact, if anything he had viewed others obsession with bemusement.  The occasional touch of his father's hand on his face or shoulder was welcomed as the closest expression of Irons' pride in him, but he had felt no need to return it, not since he was a child.  Except for Sara.  She had called to him and drawn him to her, to feelings that he was unaware he was even capable of.  He enjoyed this all brief moment of peace before life interfered again.  Last night had given him the answer that he needed.  He was still terrified that he would fail her, but with the Witchblade's intervention he knew that he would not quit, that was not the answer.  He would say beside her, give her everything that he could, and have faith, faith in her, in the Witchblade, and in his destiny.

He ran his hand gently through Sara's hair as he tried to think of something to make up to her for last night, for her interrupted sleep.  Looking at the alarm clock Ian realized that he had time before Sara rose for work.  She was sleeping peacefully at the moment, undisturbed by dreams or nightmares.  He rose quickly and quietly, padding barefoot through the dark apartment to the kitchen.  Having prepared Sara's coffee, he took his cell phone and made a call before slipping back into the bed next to her, gathering her once again in his arms, to spend the a few more moments enjoying her comfort.

Sara shifted, waking slowly in the grey morning light.  She could feel Ian cuddled against her in the bed.  It felt good.  He was warm and comfortable, making the rest of her sleep peaceful.  She was not completely sure what had happened, how he had become so integral to her life in such a short time.  Part of it was the Witchblade, part of it the intense attraction between them, but how could it happen so fast?  She stretched back against him, enjoying the sound of his indrawn breath.  "Morning," she said over her shoulder.

"Good morning Sara." he whispered against her hair.  "I trust that the rest of your night was uneventful?"

"Completely," she said quietly, amazed that she was feeling so well.  She was not exactly a morning person.  "I slept like a baby.  Thank you for staying with me."  The memories of last night a fog of confusion and pain, she knew she had broken down in front of him and while she really wanted to get embarrassed, to back away from the frantic admissions of the night before, she was afraid.  She did not want to hurt his feelings or cause a return of last nights events.  One Witchblade induced reality check was enough for her.  She shifted to look at him and was startled when he suddenly released her and rose from the bed.  "Ian, what…" she started, stopping as she heard a knock at the door.

"Allow me," he told her, smiling like a kid at Christmas as he left the room hurriedly, returning a few minutes later with a cup of coffee and a bakery box which he placed on the bed next to her.  Sara looked at him a little oddly as he sat himself gingerly on the edge of the bed, offering the cup to her.  He had learned the value of offering supplication in the form of coffee, and although she seemed to be in a surprisingly good mood, it seemed to him a wise trend to continue.  Sara took the cup from him gratefully, sitting up and making room for him next to her, her intention easy for him to read on her face.

Ian moved a little closer to her and waited for her to start her coffee before opening the box.  The inviting smell of fresh pastry rose from the box, clearing the last of the sleep from her mind as the contents made a sudden impression on her.

"Ian, how did you…" she said as she grabbed a hot croissant leaking warm chocolate.  Ian smiled at her evident delight.  It pleased him immensely, to be able to do these little things for her, to make her happy.

"You can acquire anything in this city, Sara, if you know the right person to call," he told her modestly, trying to keep the blush out of his face.

"Are you planning on helping me with this?" she asked, pointing to the box and its' contents.  "Because there is no way I can eat them all myself.  Besides I would have to work out for a week, just to keep it from going straight to my hips."

"I will join you, although I will gladly help you with your work out as well."  There was something like a smile on his face and a hint of a predatory gleam in his eyes as he watched her eat, the chocolate oozing out over her fingers as she tried to keep it from getting everywhere.  There was a newfound confidence about Ian, as if he had come to some kind of internal decision.  It was appealing and endearing, he had been trying so hard and it seemed to be working.  She notices his gaze, completely absorbed in watching her battle with the escaping chocolate, a battle she was loosing rapidly.  She could not resist a little teasing.

"What's the matter Nottingham, never seen a girl covered in chocolate before?"  For a brief moment she thought she had gone to far.  He ducked his head a little and his colour was rising.  But when he raised his eyes a moment later there was a bit of challenge in his expression.  He reached out and took her hand and cautiously raised it to his lips.  Giving her ample time to pull away, he began kissing the chocolate from the back of her hand.  The brush of his mustache tickled a little but his boldness warmed and pleased her.  In the back of her mind she wondered if she was moving to fast, starting something that they were definitely in no position to finish at this hour of the morning, but she had no desire to stop him.  She also didn't want to do anything to quash his emerging confidence.  She leaned a little closer to him and was rewarded with the transfer of his attention to her lips.  He was proceeding slowly, first licking the remains of the chocolate from her lips before kissing her, exploring the taste of her.  She was amazed, looking into his eyes, seeing the depths of emotion there.

***Beep, Beep, Beep***

The sound of the alarm clock brought them apart explosively as Ian spun around and brought his hand down on the offending object with more force than was strictly necessary to make up for the interruption.  There was the sound of splintering plastic and an electronic death rattle rewarded his efforts as the alarm clock turned dark.  There was a moment of silence, as Ian tried to put his rage back into its place, embarrassed by his actions.  He turned his face away, afraid of what he would see if he looked at her.  The sound of Sara's pealing laughter caused him to look up in surprise.  Sara was laughing almost hysterically, tears streaming down her face.  She tried to pull herself together, tried to tell him what was going through her mind, but she couldn't quite get the words out.

"I'm…I'm sorry, I just…I have wanted to do that for years.  I just don't think that I have the strength for it."  Ian started laughing as well, a rich sound that took her off guard for a moment.  It was the first time she had ever really heard him laugh.

"I am glad I could be of service then," he said, still trying to his voice back under control.  The emotional roller coaster ride was finally starting to make an impression on him.  He was laying on Sara's bed, next to her, laughing with her over the sudden assassination of her alarm clock.  They lay there for a moment, letting the laughter die away of its own accord.  Sara sat up and looked at him, his hair tangled in a mass around his face, eyes shining, laying back among the tangled bedclothes.  It would be so easy to imagine waking up next to him every morning, she thought.  For the first time she didn't even try to push the images away.


	21. Part 4 M

Having finished with her preparations, Sara went into the kitchen to find Ian leaning on the counter, eating another of those incredible pastries that he had brought for her. He was, however, having slightly better luck, only managing to get chocolate in his beard. She thought longingly about returning his favor but knew that they did not have the time for that. They couldn't keep up like this without one of them giving way and she was not completely sure he was ready even if they didn't both have to go to work.  
  
"Hey, Nottingham,"  
  
"Hey, Sara," he said, the simple formula bringing a smile to his face.  
  
"About last night, I know that you think it's your job to protect me but.."  
  
"No," he responded before she even had time to finish her sentence.  
  
"No what? You didn't even give me a chance to finish."  
  
"No, I cannot stop following you. It is my duty and my honor to protect you and I will do it." There was a new and determined note in his voice. It was the first time he had ever refused her anything and she didn't know how to respond.  
  
"Ian."  
  
"Sara, let me finish. I know that this concerns you, and I will be more careful in future to remain unobserved, but I will not let you walk into danger alone. I cannot and will not do that. If this is a problem, I do not know what I can do about it. You have always prided yourself on your independence, but you do not have to stand alone anymore." Sara stood there dumbfounded. He had never stood up to her that way before, he had never stood up to her at all before. In spite of her determination to help him become his own man, the first time he had done so, she didn't know what to say. Her initial reaction was to start screaming at him but for one reason or another, she just was not in the mood. Maybe it had something to do with the dreams, or maybe it was the chocolate and coffee flowing through her system but she just couldn't seem to get up her normal head of steam. She stood there with an astounded look on her face, trying to think of a response.  
  
He moved over to her and took her hand in his, brown eyes pleading for her to understand or at least accept his decision. "Now neither one of us has to stand alone. Is that not what we both wanted?" Sara was taken completely aback. How could she possibly respond to that without hurting him and damaging all the progress they had made?  
  
"All right, for now," she relented finally. At least this way she had the option of revisiting it with him later, when she was not in danger of being late for work. "But we aren't done with this subject, okay?" she told him.  
  
"Very well, Sara." He smiled at her. While it was only the first round, he had at least gotten her to a limited agreement and that would do for the moment.  
  
Sara's desk was starting to resemble an explosion in a paper mill. She was just trying to keep her head above water. Adding to that her attempts to get her head around the events of last night, and the changes between her and Ian and she had all the makings of a monster headache. Now she had this new body to deal with when she didn't even have time for the old ones. "Just what I need, one more case," she said aloud to herself.  
  
"Hey, Pez," Jake called as he walked in. "Have you got a file started for last night's body?"  
  
"Yeah, just getting to it, why?" she asked.  
  
"It's been reassigned to Turnbull and Orlinsky. Between you and me that guy who was in the Captain's office the other day is back again. I think he's putting the pressure on. Have you seen Danny?"  
  
"Great, just what I need, more pressure." She handed Jake the file. "And, no I haven't seen him."  
  
"So what's the deal, Pez? This Vorschlag thing?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, when rich guys get killed, everyone notices. Listen, Jake, if they're looking for me, I'm hitting the streets, tell Danny when you see him, OK?" She grabbed the Vorschlag files, her jacket and helmet and left the precinct in a hurry.  
  
Sara settled for a coffee shop around the corner and laid the files on the table, ordering coffee. Cops frequented the place so the files wouldn't faze anyone. This was getting nowhere fast. Damn, she thought, I wish we could just pin the thing on Irons where it belongs. She considered it for a moment. Why not? Irons was dead, the world would have to know sooner or later. But what would it do to Ian? How to make this work, to make everyone happy, and still get out of it with my life and badge intact. I have finally lost it, either that or I am finally making sense of it all. As she drank her coffee, a plan began to form in her mind.  
  
Danny returned to find his partner gone and Jake sitting on her desk. "Hey, McCartey, where's she gone?"  
  
"Sara told me to let you know she was hitting the streets, Mr. Politics is back in the Captain's office. I got that background you wanted. Not much available."  
  
"She's probably gone to hit something, anyway. What you got?"  
  
"This guy's pretty scary. No personal data available beyond his employment record, been with Vorschlag since '97, before that the military, Special Forces, real cloak and dagger stuff. He was with an experimental unit called the Black Dragons for three years, stone killers, all of them. Interesting though, the project was sponsored by a partnership between the DOD and a private company. Any guesses?"  
  
"Vorschlag?" Jake nodded. "Makes sense, guy gets out and then goes to work for the people who helped train him. Anything else?"  
  
"No, like I say, it's like this guy doesn't exist, except for his job and his military record, and that's classified. I only got that much because I have an ex-girlfriend who works inside the Beltway, for the State Department."  
  
"And you let her get away, Jake?" he teased him a little distractedly, while trying to process the information. He reviewed what he knew about Nottingham. He different, cold, and the way he moved spoke volumes for his physical skills. You don't get to work for Kenneth Irons without being the best at what you do, not and stay there as long as he had, not and stay alive as long as he had. Danny was pretty sure that he was the shadow at the crime scene last night, and it was sheer luck that he had caught sight of him. The guy seemed to genuinely care for Sara, and with her attitude, she could probably use someone who could stand up to her, keep an eye on her. And there was that eerie promise in the office yesterday, something told him that Nottingham had meant every word. It was weird, but all in all it was not a bad thing, if she had someone who cared that much about her. Sara only thought she was 10 feet tall and bullet proof, from what he saw this guy really was. He knew his partner had some issues, she was so afraid to get close, to lose someone that she pushed them away. Nottingham had managed to survive both his weird military background and his life as Irons' bodyguard, there was not much chance of anyone managing to kill him. Danny was trying to put it into perspective when Jake interrupted him.  
  
"So what's this about? Is this guy a suspect or something?"  
  
"No, he has the prefect alibi. I just wanted to know a little more about who I'm dealing with."  
  
When Ian arrived at the apartment, Sara was already there, on the computer in the corner. She looked up when she heard him and began to shut down the machine. "Good, you're here. We need to eat and then I have something I need to talk to you about." She stood up, came over and gave him a quick kiss. Her manner told him that something was up. She was practically crackling with nervous energy.  
  
"Anything you wish, Sara," he said curiously, as he took off his coat.  
  
"You know usually that would tick me off, but tonight, I hope you really mean that."  
  
After dinner they sat down together on the couch. Dinner had been a quiet affair, Sara was too keyed up to make light conversation, and Ian did not know what to say. Small talk had never been his strong suit. Sara sat facing him cross-legged on her side of the couch, this time not suggesting that they get any closer, they did not need the distraction at this moment. Ian had been a little edgy all through dinner, waiting for her to tell him what was on her mind. Her mood was rubbing off on him. She took a deep breath and began.  
  
"Ok, I think I have a plan to deal with this mess, but it's not going to be easy and I am going to need your help in a big way."  
  
"Of course, anything Sara. I feel a certain responsibility for the situation."  
  
"I would love to argue with you, but I can't really. This is going to be rough, but it is the only thing I can think of. If you have any ideas, please tell me. First.strange question, do you have a birth certificate? There's no public information on you in the system. It's important, if we are going to prove who you are." Ian looked completely lost. It should bother him, he thought, that she checked him out without asking, but considering all the information he had helped gather on her without her knowledge, it was only fair. After all there was very little that a simple check would show and they both knew it.  
  
"Ye-es, actually I have more than one, " he told her, still trying to figure out where she was going with this. He had a pretty good idea what she was thinking; at least part of it and it scared him beyond words. He looked at her, concern showing plainly on his face. Sara rolled her eyes at him.  
  
"No, I mean a real one. One that says you are Irons' son. We will probably need to prove it."  
  
Ian thought about it, not sure he wanted to know what she had in mind, even more sure that it was not going to be pleasant for either of them. "Yes," he said, slowly. "I think so. I can also arrange to have the doctor who delivered me. But what is the point? No one knows my father is dead."  
  
Sara sighed and continued. "In order for this to work, you're going to have to admit that he's dead." She knew she was asking a lot of him, asking him to come out of the shadows in a hell of a hurry. She thought about how hard it was going to be for him and all she had to offer by way of comfort was to stand beside him the whole time. 


	22. Part 4 Fini

Ian listened to everything she said quietly. He tried to look at it dispassionately but it was hard, she was asking him to take a big leap of faith. He was afraid, afraid to go on, afraid to go back. He nodded his head slowly as she finished. He raised his eyes to meet hers. "Sara, I do not know what to say. Would you give me a few moments?" he asked. She nodded to him and he rose quietly and slipped out the window and onto the fire escape. She wanted to make him promise to stay, to extract some assurance that he would not run from her now when she needed him so much, but she was afraid, frightened that the pressure would be too much for him too soon. Trust had to start somewhere and she only hoped that they had both come far enough for it to be here, the first and hopefully worst real test.  
  
He sat down in the cold, trying to get his thoughts in order. She was asking him to say Goodbye, to give up his father and his life. But Irons was dead, and Sara was offering him the chance to have a new life, a life that was free of the control under which he had always lived. He could start over and become his own man, become the protector that Sara needed. It all came down to Sara. He loved his father, always would. It did not matter to him what Irons had done he was still his father. He had also given him the skills he needed to help Sara, to protect her and for that he would always be grateful, more so than he had ever thought he would be. But Sara gave him a new chance, the hope for a future, the normal life he had always wanted. It was time to say goodbye to his father and take the next step. He had known that the day would come, although he had avoided even thinking about it. Sara was so special to him, and she was the true Wielder. That was his destiny, to be with her, and if this was the only way, then he must take it. He rose slowly, stretching his muscles, long frozen from the cold and turned to look inside. There was his future, Sara. Decision made, he quietly slipped back inside.  
  
As soon as the window closed behind him and she saw him sit, Sara rose and began to clear up from dinner, reassured that he was at least not running away. She washed all the dishes and then decided to start cleaning the kitchen. Her mind was spinning in a panic. What would she do if he said no? She knew she was asking a lot, but what else could she do? Until they were out from under this there was no way for them to start a life together. A life together, was that what they were working towards? She tried to resist the urge to look every few seconds to reassure herself that he was still there. She realized that she was scared, afraid that she had let him get close to her and now he would leave. She did not want to lose him like she had lost so many other people. The Witchblade warmed on her wrist, reassuring her a little. Somehow it was a comforting feeling. She found that she could no longer picture her life without him. He had slipped into her home and her life, becoming as much a part of it as Danny or Gabriel. Or even the Witchblade. He had helped her accept it as a part of her life and now she needed him more than ever. She tried to break out of the bleak thoughts but they just kept running around in her head as she scrubbed and washed.  
  
So intent was Sara on her work, on keeping her mind off of Ian and the choices he was having to make out in the cold night air, that she jumped when he came up behind her and slipped his arms around her. She turned to look into his eyes. They were still wary, like a trapped animal, but there was trust too, and love. She started to say something, anything, to make sure he was doing all right, but he spoke first. "Sara, you are right. I have to do this, and if not now then when? Perhaps this is the impetus I needed to realize that. For you, for us. But I am frightened. I cannot do it alone." There was a pleading edge to his voice and his eyes were full of pain, and hope. "Will you help me?" he asked her quietly. She leaned close to him, nodding and burying her head in his sweater. She did not want him to see the tears in her eyes. She took a moment to collect herself.  
  
"Of course I will. Watch each other's backs, remember?"  
  
Sitting in his office at Vorschlag, Ian concentrated on the list of things that he and Sara had come up with. His office. It still felt odd that his father was no longer here, that he would not somehow return and life would go back to what it had been. He was not comfortable with it, would probably never be comfortable, filling his father's shoes. Maybe when all this was over he would consider what to do about that. But even if he did return, there was no way that Ian would be able to go back to that life. He had left it behind and now he needed to focus on his future. He was not comfortable with it, would probably never be comfortable, filling his father's shoes. Maybe when all this was over he would consider what to do about that. First he needed to make arrangements though. He picked up the phone and hit the speed dial.  
  
"Wilson, I need you to arrange a few things for me. I will return to the house on Friday night and I will have a guest with me. I will need a room for her for the night."  
  
"Of course sir. Where would you like me to put her?"  
  
"I do not care, one of the lighter rooms, one that Mr. Irons did not use for his guests often."  
  
"Very well, Sir, I will see to it." There was a slight note of confusion in the man's voice but he covered it quickly. "Are there any other instructions?"  
  
"Yes, I would like you to move Ms. Bronte's body. Have the room cleared and sealed. I do not anticipate its use ever again. Have all the equipment removed as well." He tried to keep his voice even, it was hard, a step that he had not ever foreseen, but it needed to be done. Some secrets Sara really did not need to know about, ever. It was time to bury the past, at least part of it, his father's past traded for his future. After this there could be no turning back.  
  
"And what should we do with her, Sir?"  
  
"Have her placed with Mr. Irons for now, and make sure she is handled with care. She deserves respect especially now. We will have her cremated with him, and the remains interred together. In life he could not bear to be without her, I would see that in death he need not either."  
  
"It will be taken care of."  
  
"And see that it is done before we arrive, I do not want my guest disturbed."  
  
"Very well, Sir," he said quietly. "Sir?" he asked.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"It will be good to have you home again."  
  
"It will be good to be home again," he said, and realized that no matter what else happened, he really meant it. He leaned back in his chair. The first step was taken, and the path was set. He sighed and dialed the next number.  
  
"Ian, we need to go over it again," she said, frustrated. The evening had not been going well. After making up their minds to go to the mansion on Friday and stay the night, Sara had grown steadily more worried, more bad tempered. Even an energetic session with the heavy bag at the gym had not managed to make her feel much better. She was a bundle of frantic energy just waiting for something to happen, a reason to explode. They had spent the whole time going over and over the story, correcting flaws, trying to avoid as many outright lies as they could and still make it believable, without admitting anything that would get either of them arrested or committed. Her temper had been getting unbearable, she had snapped at everyone and everything. Neither of her partners wanted anything to do with her, everyone else was just keeping their heads down and avoiding her. All but Ian. He had stayed calm, a still point at the center of her swirling tornado, the one balanced thing in her world that she had not succeeded in driving away or undercover.  
  
"Enough. Do you think I am not capable of handling this?" he snapped back, his tone bringing a concerned look to her face. Ian had never done that before; he had never even seemed to notice her temper, much less mind it. She knew that she was being a pain, but she just couldn't seem to help it. "Sara, I'm sorry, I did not mean." he started to rise but she waved him back.  
  
"No, it's not you, it's me. I shouldn't have snapped at you and you don't have to take it, you shouldn't take it." Sara closed her eyes and tried to calm down. They were both tired and what they were doing had a certain large potential to backfire. Add to that the stress of the day, and her own nerves regarding tomorrow night's trip to the Irons' mansion, and the fact that they had not come to blows was more a tribute to Ian's patience that anything else. That in itself was not helping, she wanted to get mad, hit something, but she wasn't going to take it out on him. She figured that he was going through enough without her blowing up in his face like a time bomb. "Ian, I know you can do your part.I just.I guess I am just worried and I'm taking it out on the ones closest to me." She threw up her hands and started pacing the room.  
  
"Sara, why don't you sit down with me?" he asked her quietly. There was a little spark of warmth at her words, she considered him one of those closest to her? He was still amazed by every scrap of affection, no matter how small. From such an isolated, emotionally stifled upbringing to the wild and colorful passion that Sara displayed all the time was an exhilarating if sometimes exhausting and frightening sensation. With the containment of his conditioning breaking down, he felt a freedom to feel, to indulge that he had never experienced before.  
  
She looked at him sitting there on the couch in a pair of black BDU's and a sleeveless tee shirt, his hair loose and tucked behind his ears. He had come a long way in a short time and she just kept pushing him, even when she knew it was too much. It was almost as if she wanted to push him away like she did most people, but he just stayed, doing as she asked. It was not surprising he had snapped at her. She had promised herself that she would not turn into Irons, ordering him around like he had no free will and here she was asking him to reorder his life for her at a moment's notice. Finally she shrugged.  
  
"Sorry, this whole thing just has me worried, " she told him as she sat down and leaned back against him, his arms coming around her, holding her very gently. He knew that the strain was taking a toll on her but he had no idea what to do except be there and offer her the support that she had offered him. It was hard, trying to figure out what to do. He had no experience of this sort of thing, he acted on instinct, wishing that he could ask, afraid that in her current frame of mind he would drive her farther away.  
  
"This or tomorrow night?" he asked. An icy finger of fear crept up his spine, would she back out at the last moment, was he asking too much of her with everything else that was happening?  
  
"Both. I know it's logical but I wish that."  
  
"That you had never agreed to go?" he asked. His voice was emotionless, but she could see concern and a little hurt in his eyes. She couldn't bear that look. After all he asked so very little of her, and she was asking a lot of him.  
  
"No, I didn't mean that. I just wish we could do it some other way."  
  
"Sara, we will be together. It is not easy for me either. But it is my home and the longer I stay away the harder it will be. Besides, I have duties there, to the house, to the staff, and as much as I might like to, I cannot forsake them," he told her, trying to reassure her. "You have been my sanctuary, given me a place to hide, to heal. Now it is time to begin again, and we cannot do that until we get past this. I can't stay here forever, even with you." He tightened his grip on her, pulling her a little closer. She turned and gave him a tired smile.  
  
"Yeah, besides, some things are just safer. I'm not looking forward to explaining this to Danny, but at least we can do it away from his family. I don't want to cause them any trouble."  
  
"Then don't. Most of this is my story, let me tell it. I do not want to be responsible for a rift between the two of you."  
"Are you sure? He might be more inclined to believe me."  
  
"Yes, but I am the one that has to be convincing. If I cannot make him believe, then no one else will. Call it a test," he told her, sounding at that moment very much like Kenneth Irons.  
  
"You know, sometimes you can be so much like your father that it's scary," she told him. He was not exactly sure how to take that and for a moment he studied her face, trying to guess at what she meant by it. As she was still relaxed in his arms it did not seem to be meant as an insult so he decided to play with it.  
  
He raised an eyebrow at her and gave a little half smile. "Does this disturb you?" he said, a perfect imitation of Irons' voice and expression. Sara gulped a little, then laughed as she realized he was trying to make a joke and smacked him gently on the arm.  
  
"At this point, no. I have a feeling that it's the only way we're going to pull this off," she told him, relaxing back into his arms. 


	23. Part 5 Past and Future Tense

Connections  
Part 5 - Past and Future Tense  
  
Sara waited around the corner from the precinct as the black sedan drove up. Time to go, and she was still a little on edge, he could see it in her stance, like she was preparing for a fight. He gave her a reassuring smile as she grabbed her little backpack and started towards him. She got in and sat in silence as Ian turned the car expertly into traffic, heading towards home. They rode through the city, each locked in their own mind, worrying about their own fears. Ian was torn between concern and complete elation. He had succeeded where Irons, where his father had failed. He was bringing Sara home. The house, which had been so unsettling, had returned to being his home. He was no longer afraid and Sara was at least partially responsible for that. He realized that no matter what came he had someone who cared, who needed him.  
  
Sara watched the city fly past the windows with unseeing eyes. She was trying to put up a brave front, but she was concerned. The idea of a trip to the house originally had been just spending the day, letting him do what he needed to do and with any luck bailing before the place got too much on her nerves. It had been a great idea, but that was before she had hatched this little plot to dig them both out from under two murders. She understood that it was necessary, even advantageous to have the meetings here away from everyone and everything else, but that did not stop the place from bothering her immensely. She glanced over at Ian, concentrating on the road. At least he seemed happy, or not as worried as he had been at any rate. It was his home as well as Irons, she would just have to concentrate on that and try not to dwell on past events. If he can feel at home in the house where his father died, then I guess I can manage to stay the night, she thought, resigned.  
  
As they pulled through the gates, Ian reached out and gave Sara's hand a reassuring squeeze. He drove up to the front door and got out, grabbing the bags from the back. Sara just sat in the car, giving herself a moment until Ian opened the door and offered her his hand.  
  
Across the street from the gates, a car waited, watching the house. As they drove in, the man in the car picked up a cell phone and dialed.  
  
"Sir, Nottingham and Pezzini have just arrived at the Estate."  
  
"Has Irons been spotted?"  
  
"No Sir, not yet."  
  
"Ok, keep me posted."  
  
"Are you ready?" Ian asked her gently.  
  
"Not really, but that never stopped me before."  
  
"This time we are together, there is no conflict, no danger waiting within." He gave her arm a gentle squeeze and offered her his hand. She took it gratefully, wondering why it was suddenly seemed that he was the one comforting her instead of the other way around. She had come to help him and ended up being the one that was scared out of her mind.  
  
Together they walked up to the front doors, which were opened from within just as they reached them. The older gentleman, who had let her into the house before, stood aside, admitting them into the front hall. An older lady stood waiting in the hall, standing by the staircase watching them.  
  
"Good evening, Sir, it is good to have you home." There were faint traces of relief and disapproval quickly covered by the veneer of formality. He was tallish, dressed in a black suit that looked more like a uniform on him than anything else. He had a faint accent that may have been English, figures, a stereotypical English butler or whatever the guy was. She tried not to stare but the whole thing was making her a little nervous. He took their coats and the bags, Ian's duffel and Sara's little backpack.  
  
"Good evening, is everything as I requested?" he asked in return, the distance of the words doing nothing to diminish the smile he wore. It was obvious that he was fond of these people, regardless of everything else. She had noticed toward the end of the drive that he had become more confident the closer they got. Perhaps now that the inner decision was made, he had less to worry about. He was finally ready to face this place. That was a little reassuring to her, but she still had her own daemons to face here. She tried for a polite smile, trying hard to hide her nerves.  
  
"Sir," the woman spoke up, "the little ones have missed you terribly." Sara could hear the unspoken " and we did too," hanging in the air.  
  
"Little ones?" she asked Ian. The woman started to say something but Ian stopped her, a wicked grin lighting his face. A plan was forming in his mind, something completely unexpected that was guaranteed to distract Sara, and maybe put her at her ease.  
  
"I have a surprise for you, Sara," he told her.  
  
"OK, what kind of surprise?"  
  
"Not yet, Mrs. Hancock will show you to your room. I have a few things to take care of, I will meet you in the den." He gave a nod and the woman stepped forward.  
  
"And the surprise?" she asked him.  
  
"Sara," he chided gently, still smiling. "Duties first, surprise after." He turned and walked off with the gentleman.  
  
"This way, Miss." Sara followed the lady, identified now as Mrs. Hancock, up the stairs and down the corridor. She studied her a bit, a smallish woman in a high necked dress, very proper, like something out of an English movie. She must be the housekeeper or something. She didn't think anyone actually had real staff like this anymore, leave it to Irons. She really didn't know how to treat the woman. She had never been in a house with more than an occasional day maid herself, except on cases. It made her nervous. She wondered how much they knew about her and Irons, how Ian had explained her presence here.  
  
"Mrs. Hancock?" she asked finally. "How long have you been here?"  
  
"I have been with the household 30 years, Miss." Something in her tone told Sara she should not ask any more questions, not yet. She was being polite, but it was clear that Sara had not yet passed muster.  
  
Mrs. Hancock did not know what to make of this woman. She had heard the name mentioned in the house before, Sara Pezzini, now Detective Pezzini, but who she was, that was never mentioned, at least not within hearing of the staff. She had never understood the connection, none of them had. Just that she was important to both Mr. Irons and to Ian. But she had brought Ian back home, back to them, alive and happier than she thought she had seen him since he was a boy. He had actually smiled in the hall, something Mr. Irons would have found very distressing, and he had not been a man to distress. Ian had changed while he was away, was still changing and Miss Pezzini was part of that.  
  
They stopped in front of a door, identical to the others on the hall and Mrs. Hancock opened it to reveal a large bedroom. "This will be your room, Miss," she told her.  
  
Sara looked a little stunned. She had always accepted the fact that Irons had more money than god but what that meant in practical terms was occasionally a shock. The house, the staff and now this room, she had never really been anywhere in the house but the den so she really had not known what to expect.  
  
"It's.It's beautiful," she said finally, at a loss for what to say. The room was large and airy, decorated in dark, heavy wooden antiques and white. The walls were half paneled with white wall paper above, white bed linen, white rugs on the wooden floor, even a white and blue Chinese vase on the table by the wall.  
  
"Thank you, Miss. Mr. Nottingham will be pleased. He thought you would prefer a lighter room." And one which Mr. Irons did not use for guests often, she added to herself although that particular instruction had struck her as odd, she did not question it. She had been so pleased that he was coming back she would have done anything. "When you have freshened up, take the corridor right to the end of the hall and down the stairs, you will be outside the den." She gave her directions and started to leave, but turned back at the last moment. "Oh, Miss?"  
  
"Yes?" Sara asked.  
  
"Thank you,"  
  
"For what?" she responded.  
  
"For bringing him back, " she said, leaving hurriedly, afraid she had said too much. It had never been a good idea to say too much in this house.  
  
Sara stared after her retreating figure, wishing she had a good way to question her. It was obvious that the staff had some of the same concerns she had about Ian's intentions. But what did they know about her and Irons? She filed the thought away for later and looked around. Oh, well, might as well get cleaned up and see what it was that Nottingham had planned for her. What kind of surprise could he possibly have for her anyway? 


	24. Part 5 B

"Mrs. Hancock?" she asked finally. "How long have you been here?"  
  
"I have been with the household 30 years, Miss." Something in her tone told Sara she should not ask any more questions, not yet. She was being polite, but it was clear that Sara had not yet passed muster.  
  
Mrs. Hancock did not know what to make of this woman. She had heard the name mentioned in the house before, Sara Pezzini, now Detective Pezzini, but who she was, that was never mentioned, at least not within hearing of the staff. She had never understood the connection, none of them had. Just that she was important to both Mr. Irons and to Ian. But she had brought Ian back home, back to them, alive and happier than she thought she had seen him since he was a boy. He had actually smiled in the hall, something Mr. Irons would have found very distressing, and he had not been a man to distress. Ian had changed while he was away, was still changing and Miss Pezzini was part of that.  
  
They stopped in front of a door, identical to the others on the hall and Mrs. Hancock opened it to reveal a large bedroom. "This will be your room, Miss," she told her.  
  
Sara looked a little stunned. She had always accepted the fact that Irons had more money than god but what that meant in practical terms was occasionally a shock. The house, the staff and now this room, she had never really been anywhere in the house but the den so she really had not known what to expect.  
  
"It's.It's beautiful," she said finally, at a loss for what to say. The room was large and airy, decorated in dark, heavy wooden antiques and white. The walls were half paneled with white wall paper above, white bed linen, white rugs on the wooden floor, even a white and blue Chinese vase on the table by the wall.  
  
"Thank you, Miss. Mr. Nottingham will be pleased. He thought you would prefer a lighter room." And one which Mr. Irons did not use for guests often, she added to herself although that particular instruction had struck her as odd, she did not question it. She had been so pleased that he was coming back she would have done anything. "When you have freshened up, take the corridor right to the end of the hall and down the stairs, you will be outside the den." She gave her directions and started to leave, but turned back at the last moment. "Oh, Miss?"  
  
"Yes?" Sara asked.  
  
"Thank you,"  
  
"For what?" she responded.  
  
"For bringing him back, " she said, leaving hurriedly, afraid she had said too much. It had never been a good idea to say too much in this house.  
  
Sara stared after her retreating figure, wishing she had a good way to question her. It was obvious that the staff had some of the same concerns she had about Ian's intentions. But what did they know about her and Irons? She filed the thought away for later and looked around. Oh, well, might as well get cleaned up and see what it was that Nottingham had planned for her. What kind of surprise could he possibly have planned anyway?  
  
Ian headed into his office, Wilson trailing behind him. "I take it that everything is as I requested?"  
  
"Of course, Sir," he said, crisply, a touch of mild rebuke in his voice. Ian hid a smile. Never let it be said that Henry Wilson did not do as much or more than was expected. "The room has been cleared and sealed, all the equipment removed and Ms. Elizabeth's body delivered to the Doctor to be placed with Mr. Irons. May I ask what will be done about the two of them?"  
  
"I will attend to it soon. There are other things of greater importance to be dealt with first." Ian flipped quickly through the security reports on his desk and then turned his attention back to Wilson.  
  
"Dr. Immo will be coming tomorrow, I need to speak with him concerning Mr. Irons.my father's death." It was still hard for him to say it but he was getting better at it. It would take time for it to come naturally he knew, but it was necessary.  
  
"Sir, I have some concerns regarding the doctor's position.Do you think it is wise?" he questioned, a little tightness around his mouth the only overt sign of his unease. Ian looked up at him, registering the older man's qualms. A little warmth lit his eyes as he noted the apprehension in Wilson's expression. But while he respected the man's position, still his responsibility remained. He needed to handle the situation on his own, it was his place and nothing would change that. Ian gave him a reassuring smile.  
  
"I understand your reservations, however I have already made my wishes clear. I need the doctor's help on a very important matter, and in this at least he can be relied upon." There was a finality in Ian's expression so like his father's that for a moment Wilson was almost overcome. The boy had grown up, grown confident during his absence. For the first time since Iron's death, Henry Wilson was certain that Ian would be all right. He wondered a little absently about the young lady's part in these changes, and how she fit in. "Also there will be a young man here to begin cataloging and research on the private collection, please see that he has everything he needs." Another change. Mr. Irons had been most protective of the collection, although he had been well aware of the need. Ian was moving fast, setting the house in order with a confidence and competence that Wilson had known him capable of. He had not expected it to happen this suddenly, however.  
  
"It will be taken care of, Sir." It was odd, hearing Wilson calling him 'Sir', for years it had been Mr. Ian, ever since he had come back from the military. Stepping into his father's shoes was going to take a lot of getting used to. The whole idea was more frightening than he really cared to think about at the moment. He needed to focus on finishing this and getting back to Sara. Just the thought of her here in the house was more than a little distracting. He reordered his thoughts, and focused on the next task.  
  
"Very well, we will also be expecting a visit from Sara's partner. She and I are attempting to handle a situation regarding the two gentlemen that were." he paused, searching for a good way to explain.  
  
"The two gentleman who were killed here, Sir. I am aware of the situation, very little happens in this house without my knowledge." There was an edge to his voice and Ian looked up, confused. "I was the one who had the bodies moved."  
  
"You what?" Ian asked in shock.  
  
"The house is my responsibility. Mr. Irons had two members of staff remove them, with specific instructions."  
  
"Do not mention this to anyone, do you understand?" There was a sharpness about Ian's voice that surprised them both.  
  
"Sir, I have been managing things in this household since before you were born. I think I know where my duty lies." He stood straight, bearing himself with military precision. Things might have changed in the house but he was still accountable.  
  
"That may be, but Sara and I will handle this situation. Those are my orders. You never questioned my father's when he was alive, will you question mine now that I have taken charge?" Ian hoped that there would not be a problem. It was going to be a challenge to step out of the shadows, and without the support of the staff he did not know how he would manage. He looked Wilson in the eyes, pleading with him silently to understand.  
  
Wilson smiled, just a bit and nodded his assent. Ian was indeed taking control, finally. It looked like he was accepting his place at last. How much of that was the young lady and how much was just time finally beginning to heal old wounds still remained to be seen. Considering Ian's new found confidence, he thought, I may have to give her the benefit of the doubt.  
  
Ian leaned back in his chair a little, reassured that there would be no problems now with the staff. One more difficulty dealt with. He organized his remaining thoughts and began laying out the details of the situation and the solution.  
  
After Sara cleaned up she followed Mrs. Hancock's directions and found herself outside a familiar set of doors. She paused, trying to get up the strength to face her guilt and her nightmares. Through the doors, the room where Irons died, the room where Ian had caught his father's body and declared them enemies, the room in which he waited now for her, to heal, to start over, together. It was more than a little daunting, but if he could handle it then she guessed that she could as well. Resolved, she pushed open the doors quietly and entered.  
  
The room had changed substantially from the last time she was here. Gone where the gothic statues, the bare floors and walls, replaced with a long table down the center of the room. A large, throne-like chair was drawn up to the fire, with a leather couch opposite. A large fire burned in the fireplace and a rug was placed before it. Candles were lit as before but there was also some kind of recessed lighting, and a large suit of armor stood guard in a niche high on the wall, above the stairs leading up to the library level, just visible from where she stood. She tried to take in the whole room but it was just too much at this moment. Then she saw Ian coming down the stairs. Somewhere he had ditched his jacket and tie, and he was no longer wearing those annoying gloves. He smiled at her as he walked over and drew her further into the room. With all the changes, she could not even have made out the spot on which Irons died, or at least not without thinking about it and she was determined not to do that. If she tried she could almost even pretend that it was a different room altogether. Ian was looking a little more relaxed at the sight of her, somehow he seemed right here, a part of this place in some way she could not define.  
  
"Sara, how did you find your room?" he said, trying to play the genial host as his father always had been. He was still trying to find exactly the right way to treat her here, she was so much more than a mere guest but he was concerned that he if he were to intimate it would make her uncomfortable. This was new, and he wanted everything to go perfectly. He wanted to put his arms around her, to reassure her as her presence did for him, but he settled for his little surprise. He was not sure she was ready yet to be that relaxed here, but soon.  
  
"It is beautiful, but I believe you promised me a surprise?" she said, trying to keep everything light and not think too much. Ian broke into a grin, just like a little boy. He has a wonderful grin, she thought. He led her over to the rug and sat down, pulling her down beside him. For a moment Sara really started to wonder what he was up to, but he pulled his phone out of his pocket and spoke into it quietly, correcting her original thought.  
  
"Yes, we are ready, go ahead." He slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned to Sara. "Close your eyes," he told her softly, excitement dancing in his eyes. She did as he asked, trying hard to resist the urge to peek, after all it would not be fair, to spoil his delight.  
  
She heard a door open and what sounded like.claws? Suddenly she was buried under an avalanche of warm fur. She opened her eyes as she was knocked over into Ian. A herd of small, grey furred bodies wiggled over them both, pushing them back onto the hearthrug. They were followed by two larger dogs who immediately got busy, pushing Ian back next to her and pinning him down for a wrestle. Sara laughed as one of the little ones stuck a wet nose under the edge of her shirt, as she tried to grab another one, to keep it from licking her face, but they were all moving, licking and sniffing at her. She gave up and just lay on the rug while the puppies swarmed them. Finally, they calmed down, having accepted her and collapsed into a mass of arms, paws, legs and fur. Ian smiled at her, at her obvious enjoyment in the little ones and their play. One little female had burrowed between them into her arms and was busily licking her ear as she tried negligently to bat at it.  
  
"What are they?" she asked as she tried to find her place in the slowly shifting pile.  
  
"Irish wolfhounds, my father always kept them. They are smart and elegant, and not inclined to do to much damage."  
  
"Yeah I can see the advantages." she started before the squirming began again, distracting them both from other thoughts.  
  
They lay together on the rug, the two people and the dogs, comfortable together in their own way. Sara tried to sit up but the dogs would not allow it, so she lay back down, allowing the two adults to bracket her and Ian. No better way to shatter fear than to change the room and fill it with puppies, how could you be frightened with them crawling all over you? She looked at Ian, his elegant attire covered with grey fur, hair coming loose from its ponytail, while one of the little monsters tried to get its nose into his pocket, searching for something. He looked more relaxed than she had seen him awake before, and why not. Even during those brief moments of intimacy there was a hint of watchfulness in the back of his eyes, although whether it was for her or himself she did not know.  
  
He saw her watching him and smiled. The watched watching her watcher, it struck him as amusing in its own way. The puppies had done the trick, made her relax in this room, look at it differently. It was essentially the center of the house, the living room, he supposed, the room in which he had spent so much of his life. He realized how much he missed this place, the place where he had grown up. In spite of the pain, his memories were here, both the good and the bad, and nothing would change that. He did not think that he really wanted to. What he wanted was for her to be as comfortable here in his place as he had become in her's. Maybe someday. He reached over to her, slipping a treat into her hand for the puppy that had obviously chosen her for its' own.  
  
"I think she has decided that you are her's," he told her of the grey lump that had settled under her arm, head resting on her shoulder. Sara gave her the treat and she munched away happily, not moving from her chosen spot.  
  
"Yeah, right. She just decided I'm comfortable. What's her name?" she asked.  
  
"She does not have a name yet, other than a formal one," he explained. "Pure bred dogs, show dogs, usually have two names, one on their papers and one that they are called." He gave her the little one's formal name, something long and Gaelic, which Sara gave up trying to pronounce after the second try and the amused look that Ian tried manfully to hide.  
  
"So what do you call her?"  
  
"I have not had a chance to name them yet, I am afraid that I was a bit distracted and neglected my duty. But you may give her a name if you like. Her parents are Caillian and Finn." The two adults looked up at their names but with no command forthcoming they both put their heads back down. Sara picked up the squirming little bundle of fur. "Maria, I think she should be Maria," she told him after a moment. "I used to have a friend named Maria. She always had more energy than was good for her too." Ian remembered a dark haired girl on a park bench, talking and laughing, a girl now long gone, killed in body and spirit by a life she could not control. He reached out for Sara, needing to feel her touch. There was a subtle sadness in the way she said it, something that seemed for a moment to try to pull her away from him.  
  
She shook her head a little, clearing the thoughts and her smile returned, although perhaps a little dimmer. She moved close, handing him little Maria, who seemed pleased with her name, or at least the attention. Ian put the puppy down on his other side and shifted closer, propping his head on his hand.  
  
Above them on the balcony, three silent figures watched. Slowly, they slipped back into the shadows, smiling. Everything would be all right now. They left the room and returned to their duties. 


	25. Part 5 C

They could have laid there forever, in a comfortable pile before the fire had they been allowed. Ian was enjoying the sight of her lying there next to him in the firelight. "Seeing you here like this, Sara, it makes me want." he stopped, a little uncertainly.  
  
"Want to what?" she asked softly as her heart sped up just a little, something in his tone, his eyes making her breathe a little faster.  
  
He leaned down and kissed her slowly, just a brush at first, enjoying the feel of her lips against his, the taste of her. Part of him wanted to spend forever, slowly exploring those lips, learning every contour, every inch of her soft mouth, while another part was urging him to hurry, press closer, let go. The dichotomy bothered him only briefly as the thought was driven from his mind by the feel of her hand slipping up, releasing his hair from its confines and running her hand through it before cradling the back of his head gently, urging him to continue. A knock on the door brought them all up, suddenly, waking the dogs from their doze and breaking the two of them apart suddenly like guilty children. "Come," Ian said, standing and offering Sara his hand. The noise and the movement roused the dogs, which milled around their feet, as the gentleman who had greeted them entered.  
  
"Sir, the doctor, returning your call. I put it through upstairs."  
  
"Very well," he said, and went up the stairs, leaving the two of them standing, staring at each other. Sara had no idea what to say to this impeccably dressed stranger who was obviously some kind of butler or something, and who had known Ian much longer than she had. She ran a hand self-consciously through her dog tousled hair and tried to figure out how not to look so out of place.  
  
Henry Wilson watched as her discomfort grew, knowing that he should do something to ease her. She was after all, the one who brought him home, the one who seemed to have shaken him out of his depression and urged him on with his life. While he was not entirely sure she could be trusted or should be, their interaction with one another and the happiness on Ian's face gave him hope. He walked over to her. "Miss?" he asked, finally. "May I get you something to drink, perhaps? Mr. Nottingham should not be long."  
  
"Uh, yeah sure, Mr.?" she reached for something, anything. Just standing face to face to someone who called Ian Mr. Nottingham in that tone of voice was hard for her to get used to.  
  
"Wilson, Miss, just Wilson."  
  
"Ok, Wilson," she said, not particularly sure what the protocol was, this was just not part of her upbringing and they both knew it. "A glass of wine, maybe?"  
  
"Yes, Miss, shall I choose for you?" he asked.  
  
"Uh.Yes.whatever you think."  
  
"Miss?" he said, walking a little closer. "You are welcome here." He turned to leave as Ian came down. "Sir, I was just getting the lady a glass of wine, would you.?" he asked.  
  
"Two," Ian answered him, walking over to where Sara stood a little uncomfortably by the fire. Wilson was brought up a little short by the request. Just seeing the way he moved over to be with her, hair loose, gloves missing, was a bit of a shock, something that he had not even noticed when he entered.  
  
"Sir?" He knew that Ian had been forbidden to drink while Irons was alive, another change in him then.  
  
"Two," Ian said again, turning his back on the man, the dismissal clear. He was managing to sound more confident than he felt. It was better; he was finding it easier to find the control, the confidence.  
  
"Yes, Sir." "We will have dinner shortly, I think perhaps the dogs should be let out," he told Sara. She looked down at them a little sadly, sorry to see them go, but she could see the point in not having puppies under foot during dinner. Ian smiled and gave the command to the adults, who started to follow Wilson out, the puppies trailing along behind. Except for little Maria, she moved slowly and kept looking back at Sara. It was hard, to see the look in those little brown eyes and she was resisting the temptation to run over and grab the little creature, or ask to let her stay. Ian laughed and picked her up, putting her on the other side of the door as they all left and closing it after them.  
  
He led Sara to the couch and sat down with her. "Was that a suitable surprise? I am still new at planning such things." There was a hopeful look in his eyes that reminded her an awful lot of the puppies, all excitement and curiosity.  
  
"You did it perfectly," she told him reassuringly. "It was wonderful, helped to take our minds off things. This room is very different now." There was a note in her voice, something distracted that made him want to explain, make her forget what had happened here.  
  
"Yes, It is the room that we always spent the most time in. When I was young I would fall asleep on the floor in front of the fire with the dogs, listening to my father tell me stories," he told her, wishing he could tell her all the things that this room meant to him, and what it meant to finally have her here, after so long, without conflict, without police business, just here with him.  
  
"I understand, it's your home, it's just very different. I feel out of place, I don't know how to act here." She said, choosing to ignore the other memories of this room, to concentrate on the now, on the problem that was at least more easily dealt with. It was a different kind of worry, like a shoe that pinches, an irritant that could just be ignored until she got used to it.  
  
"Don't concern yourself with that, it means nothing to me. No one will ever make you feel uncomfortable here. I will not allow it. There are only a few permanent staff anyway and they have all been here since before I was born. They would not do anything to make you unwelcome," he told her, sounding once again a bit like Irons, in control and confident. As if he would not allow anything to interfere with his vision of how things should be. It was almost frightening to her, how fast he could change in and out of that world. "The rest are here only during the day or special occasions. My father was not comfortable with the idea of strangers in the house at night. I do not see many parties in the future; I do not have his taste for entertaining. I have always been.uncomfortable around crowds. Too many possibilities for danger."  
  
Sara listened to him talk but the situation was nagging at her mind, no matter how she tried to push it away. So far they had been nice to her. They were obviously concerned for Ian, so why had they allowed Irons to treat him the way he had. Her mind spun around and around, trying to find a solution. Then again, Irons was a rich and powerful man, what could they do? Report him? Who would listen?  
  
The whole situation was confusing. They obviously knew who she was, but she was expecting hostility, something, it was as if they did not know about her part in Irons' death. Had Ian not told them? But she really had no way to ask him, not without bringing everything up again, after he had gone out of his way to make her comfortable, maybe to forget himself a little. Ian was sitting beside her talking, probably the longest speech he had made in the time they had known each other. She realized that she had not heard a word that he was saying.  
  
"I'm sorry, I faded out for a minute there. What did you say?" she asked him, trying to quiet her mind and just enjoy their time together, just like she had at home.  
  
"I asked if you would like to see some of the rest of the house after dinner, maybe walk in the garden a little?" The questioning note in his voice pulled her attention firmly back to him.  
  
"All right," she said as a knock on the door heralded the arrival of both their drinks and dinner.  
  
After dinner, Ian began the tour with the Witchblade gallery; the room that housed most of the collection of art and artifacts Irons had collected over the years. They passed painting after painting, sometimes Ian would stop and tell her a little about one of them, a piece of the tale anyway. Standing in front of one, a picture of a strange warrior on horse back, a vision hit her: Irons himself, telling her some of the same stories, explaining, offering his help. Why? And why had she refused him, when he was trying to help her? It didn't matter; it was one of those alternate visions about things that never happened, like Danny's death, or Ian's. She shook her head at Ian, who had seen at least part of it. She put her hand on his arm, reassuring herself that he was all right and alive. It was too confusing and she didn't want to get into it right now. Like many of the little pieces, it just needed to be filed away for another time.  
  
"Gabriel is going to be in heaven, we may never be able to get him back out again," she told him lightly, trying to change the subject to something a little lighter.  
  
"I am sure. And what better place for an angel?" he said, amused at his own joke. "There are many people who would relish the opportunity he is being given. This has always been one of my favorite parts of the house. If my life had been different I think I would have wanted to be a scholar. It was part of my training, but I never had as much time as I would have liked."  
  
"Maybe now?" she asked.  
  
"I do not know what is in store for me anymore. But as long as you are here." he left it at that as they wondered on a little, content with just being together.  
  
They passed into a connecting room containing the books and manuscripts which Irons had gathered from all over the world in the course of his obsession, an incredible collection that would have made any scholar drool at the least and offer up their eldest child at worst. Sara stopped when she saw a painting on the wall of the room, set apart from everything else in a large and elegant frame. It showed a woman who could have been Sara, or at least her double, sitting on the bench in front of a piano in an elaborate room, her emerald green gown flowing over and pooling on the floor at her feet and the Witchblade glowing gently on her wrist.  
  
"Ian, who is she?" her voice was hushed, almost frightened. Ian cursed quietly to himself, having forgotten that she knew nothing of this and it was not his to tell. He decided on a limited answer, which as long as it was the truth was probably safest, as it always had been with his father.  
  
"Her name was Elisabeth Bronte," he told her quietly, trying to find a way to explain it to her. There was a note of sadness in his voice. The name was familiar, something niggling in the back of her mind, something Gabriel had told her.  
  
"A spy? Something like that?" she asked, trying to grab the thought but not really succeeding. He nodded. "She was the last true wielder of the Witchblade before you. She was also my father's one true love. He knew her after the war. They traveled together for a time, and he loved her very much." Sara noticed the pain in his eyes and knew it was for his father.  
  
The Witchblade swirled a little, warming her wrist. She was in a glowing ballroom, once again she was in the mind of someone else, experiencing their feelings. Music was playing and she found herself in Kenneth Irons arms as he held her close, spinning through the waltz. She could feel the interplay between them, the love they felt for one another as if they were the only two people in the room. People were watching them, the handsomest couple in the room, as he leaned to whisper into her ear.And she was back with Ian, staring at the portrait.  
  
"What happened to her?" Her voice was faint, as she tried to recover from what she had felt, what she had seen through Elizabeth's eyes. "And why does she look so much like me?"  
  
"She died in an accident while they were abroad. They fought over the Witchblade that day and then she died. He blamed himself for her death. I don't think he ever recovered from it. She was everything to him." That she knew, it was hard, to see Kenneth Irons as a man, a human being, instead of the monster he had become. At least she had more to think about now. Not that she really wanted to, she had never had any desire to understand the man who had made Ian, maybe she needed to. But not right now, right now she needed the answers to other questions. Philosophizing would get her nowhere now and she did not need the added stress.  
  
"But why does she look like me?"  
  
"Because you are of the same bloodline. You will notice in the paintings that several of them resemble you." He looked at her, outwardly calm, hoping she accepted the answer. Sara meanwhile, had had a horrible thought.  
  
"Ian, is she." she couldn't say it, couldn't bring herself to. Not without knowing what being of the same bloodline meant as far as that was concerned.  
  
"No," he said sharply. He continued, a little more reflectively. "Perhaps it would have been better for him if she were, and for me. No Sara, we are not related, at least not like that." Sara breathed a sigh of relief and Ian smiled at that. Her feelings for him were complicated, but intense, and the idea that they might be related, that was just weirder than she really wanted to think about. She certainly did not want to have to view him as a relative, at least not a blood relative. She put her hand on his arm, making sure that he was back with her, and anchoring her to him, to this reality. She was not up to another Witchblade induced trip through the looking glass.  
  
"No, it would not be better, because then what is between us." she left it there, letting him do the math.  
  
"Thank you, Sara. You keep shedding a little more light into my darkness. Maybe someday it will be gone altogether," he said sincerely, giving her a kiss. The kiss was gentle but there was a look in his eyes that made her melt a little. With that they left the room and continued to tour the house. More explanations could wait, for now.  
  
After the tour, Ian suggested a brief walk on the grounds with the dogs. The weather was a bit chilly and the gardens were dead for the year, but it was a clear night and beautiful in its own way. They wandered the grounds in companionable silence, the dogs at their heels, enjoying the night for a moment free of their worries. It was peaceful here, not like the city, and completely safe. Not, she thought, that Ian and I are ever really in any danger in the city, but at least here we will not get interrupted by anything happening. We don't even have to be looking out for trouble. She wondered what it would look like in spring, when everything was in bloom. Would she be here to see it?  
  
She was enjoying the walk, arm linked with Ian's, watching the dogs chase each other, when something began niggling at the back of her mind. She found the thought and put it together, but it didn't add up.  
  
"Ian, you said that Irons and Elizabeth met after the War? I assume you don't mean Vietnam."  
  
"No, I do not," Ian told her quietly.  
  
"And she was a spy during World War II."  
  
"Yes." "Just exactly how old was your father?" she asked, a little confused.  
  
"How old do you think he was?" He answered her question with one of his own, a smile playing about his lips that she couldn't read in the dark. Sara thought about it for a moment. In the vision he looked the same, exactly as he had the day she met him. But from what Ian said, she was long dead, and Sara was sure that she was not much older in the vision than in the painting.  
  
"Well, he looked like he could be anywhere from late thirties to maybe fifty, I couldn't really tell for sure. He would have to have been at least fifty considering your age or very precocious."  
  
"Perhaps a bit of both, knowing him," he said, voice caught between reflection and amusement. He raised an eyebrow in a very Irons-like expression. "Actually he was ninety-six when he died." Sara gaped at him and he laughed, hastening to explain. "The Witchblade gave him a longer life, Sara, along with the other gifts. Although whether it was a blessing or curse, I don't know, nor do I think he ever did either, really. There again, perhaps a bit of both." Once again that note of sadness, just a hint, as he looked at her, reassuring himself that his lady was beside him and he was not alone. He slipped his arm from hers and slid it around her, pulling her a little closer in the cold as they continued to walk through the dead moonlit garden. 


	26. Part 5 D

Sara paced the floor in the white guest room trying to relax a little. It had been such a pleasant evening, that wonderful dinner, the gallery with its new answers and new questions, the tour of the house and short walk with the dogs in the gardens. It had been nice, in spite of the new information fighting for space in her brain. It made her forget how nervous this place made her. Now she was alone in this elegant room that was not much smaller than her apartment. Her pajama bottoms and tee shirt that were usually so comfortable, felt out of place in this beautiful room. She lay down on the bed. It was nice, but her mind would not stop turning. She wished she had brought a book, a case file, something to read, some music, anything. She even wished she could have asked for the puppy back, at least little Maria would be company, if not particularly good for the furniture. She briefly considered going to the library for a book, but she could not face it in the darkness, afraid of what she might see. While she had a lot to say to Kenneth Irons, tonight was not the night to get confronted by his ghost. She wondered if Ian had ever seen him, if that was what had led to his flight, but did not want to ask.  
  
Ian, she missed Ian. Sara had become so used to him being around, in the apartment, in her life, and now he was somewhere in this house, farther away than she had felt from him since he had practically collapsed on her a week ago. He had walked her to the bedroom door, the perfect gentleman, given her a soft kiss and disappeared down the hall before she could say anything. She had wanted to ask him to come in, to stay with her, but she had just been unwilling, unable to do so. Sara wished she knew where he was in this expensive mausoleum. Why did one man need so much house anyway? Just like Irons to have a house big enough to lose a large family in for himself alone.  
  
The answer came to her in a flash and she wondered why she had not seen it before. Why couldn't she just find him, go to him? They were gambling everything on tomorrow, on the fact that people would listen and believe. Why should they be apart tonight? He was probably at least as nervous as she was. Besides, she really did not want another night alone with only the dreams she had been having for company. She reached out and located him. Now all she had to do was make it through the darkened house. Decision made, Sara left her room for the half-light of the hall. After a false start and at least one wrong turn, she made her way down a long corridor that she had not seen earlier. It was lined with what were no doubt priceless pieces of art and antiquities and ended in a double door. She had no doubt whose room that was, had been, and it was not her destination. She found a smaller hallway at the junction leading to a flight of stairs. She took them down to the next floor, realizing that she was getting nearer; she could feel Ian clear and close. Sara went to the first door, took a deep breath and knocked.  
  
Ian had come back to his room after escorting Sara to hers. She was here, in the house, and it was an unbelievable feeling. He had not really wanted to say goodnight to her, but knew that they both needed their sleep. After a shower, he settled down, trying to meditate, clear his mind for sleep. It took longer than usual to relax, get into the proper mind set, Sara creeping more and more into his thoughts. He wondered if he was going through some sort of withdrawal, the way some of the guys in his unit had when they took them off the enhancement drugs. Could you become addicted to a person's presence? He had never felt this way about a woman, about anyone before. He had taken his father's restrictions to heart, finding the complex rituals of dating and mating held no true interest for him before. If anything he had viewed his father's liaisons with detachment for the most part, ignoring them except for the threat potential. If he had any thoughts at all on the subject they ranged from disinterest to distaste. It was simply not a part of his world, something that he only saw through the words of the poets or the vision of painters, an ideal without a feeling. Before Sara had become real to him, become a woman instead of a marble pedestal goddess.  
  
He had shared her apartment for a week, and she had let him, had encouraged him to become closer to her. Nights of talking on the couch with his arms around her, even time just spent watching her do ordinary things, being included in them was an amazing feeling. Not being made feel separate, different. The only other person who had really made him feel that was his father. She had included him in her world and now he had brought her to his. It was different now, before his conditioning had helped him detach, hold his emotions at bay, the ones that he felt. Everything had been held at a distance, everyone, even his father. Now he understood, the emotions, the passion. He felt an ache when he thought about Sara, a longing that only grew stronger as the days passed. Touch, something that was so foreign to him, now was desired, hungered after like a starving man craves food. Everything she did, the feel, the smell of her was intoxicating. He held on, let each little touch, each brush with intimacy plant seeds in him, seeds of hope. His thoughts were getting away from him; instead of relaxing he was becoming aroused. Those feelings had been new as well. At first he wondered if he would react to others, not just Sara. But with his exposure to others he realized that it was not so. He recognized the beauty in some of the women he saw, but it did not cause the same rush of sensation that the mere sound of Sara's voice did. Leaning back a little, he pushed all the thoughts away, clearing his mind as he concentrated on a simple mantra.  
  
Rising, Ian got into his bed, lying back on the pillows, and hoping that the relaxation held long enough for him to sleep. He was praying that he could get through without a return of the dreams that had been haunting his sleep; sweet, intense dreams of Sara, that made him unable to meet her eyes in the morning. Dreams that, in the back of his mind, he wondered if she shared. He had no idea whether they were dreams of the past or just wishful thinking but regardless, they woke him in the early hours of the morning, making it hard to return to sleep without slipping out onto the fire escape, meditating on the cold metal there. 


	27. Part 5 E

The knock startled him and he rose from his bed quickly, calling for whomever it was to enter. The security system had not gone off, he knew that, so what and who was knocking on his door, what had happened. He turned to find Sara, standing in the dark hall, looking a little uncertainly at him. She stepped forward slowly into the fire lit room, her hair loose, dressed as she usually was for bed, looking at him quietly. He flowed forward to her, meeting in the center of the floor. "Sara, is something wrong?" he asked, concerned.  
  
"Nothing really, I just couldn't sleep, and I." she trailed off, looking around his bedroom. It was a nice room, dark paneling, burgundy rug, fire in the fireplace burning low. What is it with this place and fires? she thought, Not like they don't have central heat. But they did give the place a nice feel. There were bookshelves and weapons on the wall. Over the fireplace was a black and white print or something that looked oriental. She took it all in, the two chairs drawn up by the fireplace, the four poster bed to the right and the door to the left that was just barely open and led to the bathroom. Great, I'm here now what?  
  
"Please sit down, I'm sorry, I was just surprised to see you," he pointed to one of the chairs and she fell into it, trying to organize her thoughts. "I was just thinking about you," he told her softly, sitting in the other chair. He wanted nothing more than to put his arms around her, hold her right now, but she seemed a little lost. He waited, watching, knowing that she would talk when she was ready.  
  
Sara sat and watched the fire, trying to find the words to explain to him why she was here, what she wanted. How could she show him what she had only just begun to see herself? Her feelings, suddenly clear in her heart like light through a frost covered window, glowing and prismatic, that one moment when everything was suddenly transformed. She looked over at him, watching her in the firelight. His face was slightly shadowed; dark eyes following silently her every move. She thought about the dreams, in dreams it was so easy, they had lifetimes between them, so why was this moment so hard? She couldn't let them be apart, tonight of all nights, when tomorrow was so uncertain. If something went wrong at least they would have this moment.together. Something concrete, to reassure them both that what was happening between them was not just another dream.  
  
"Ian, I couldn't sleep." She started slowly, " I know that tomorrow is going to be the beginning of something very difficult, if it doesn't work, I don't know what to do. We could lose everything we have started together. I could lose my badge, hell, we could both end up in jail at the worst. I.I just did not want to be alone tonight. I wanted to be with you." She looked at him, trying, praying he understood. Ian rose and knelt by her chair, looking up into her eyes.  
  
"Sara," he said, trying to get emotions under control. She leaned down and kissed him, slowly, trying to remember what he had said, to let him feel what she was feeling. Ian felt her brush his mind and opened up to her, reaching out to see what she was showing him. It was overwhelming, the warmth, the love in her heart that she could not bring out in words. He looked up at her, a wealth of unfettered emotions in his eyes, love, confusion, concern and desire all merging in the darkness.  
  
"I don't."  
  
"Shhh, its all right," she whispered, taking his hands in hers, guiding them to her. "Just touch me." He was cautious, hesitant, mind spinning, heart pounding in a haze of sensation. He ran his hands over her slowly, barely touching her. He was in awe, she was here, lying in his bed and letting him touch, feel her; more intense that the simple contact they had shared before for the promise of sensation long denied, finally released. He leaned forward, crossing the space between them to kiss her. She opened her mouth, letting the kiss deepen, showing him with her response that what he was doing was right. He could wait for the words, but this, this was really happening. He moved closer, lying on his side, facing her.  
  
Sara was a little lightheaded, she wanted to reach out and touch him but knew she was doing the right thing, letting him explore, become relaxed with her. The room had gotten very warm and she knew it had nothing to do with the fire, at least not the one on the hearth. She could feel him in her head, it was odd, like being two places at once and she knew that he was feeling it too. She could see it, feel it, the wealth of confusion, fear of disappointing her, hurting her, embarrassment at his lack of experience, love and longing all mixed in a heart so new to allowing itself to feel. For a moment they both just lay there, looking at each other, trying to come to grips with what was happening. For a brief second she almost drew back on instinct, fear of the unknown, fear of the sharing, the emotional intimacy on top of the physical. The Witchblade warmed her wrist a little, swirling, reassuring her and Ian as well as he followed her feelings in his mind. This was right, it was what was meant to be. She hoped blindly that it was not too much for him, this sort of sharing was out of both of their experience. But he was holding on, she could feel it, her emotions feeding the flame of his assurance. Deciding to push a little more she took his hands and placed them at the bottom of her tee shirt, moving to make it easier, make it obvious what he was supposed to do. Ian closed his eyes for a moment and bit his lip. He knew that there was no turning back and since she had opened her heart to him, his final objection was dust on the floor.  
  
He did as she wanted, tossing the shirt away into the darkness. Her skin stood out, stark white in the dim light, his hands twitching as he tried to bring himself to make the next move. He moved closer, bringing his arms around her, pulling her toward him, the feel of her skin against his hands was beyond words. "Beautiful," he whispered softly, unaware that he had even spoken. He touched her, following the line of her shoulder down her arm. She shivered a little as the pure joy in him flooded her senses. He was trying to take his time, to capture every moment; every feeling in his memory, but it was getting harder to control. The feel of skin against skin was amazing, and addictive, he wanted to explore the myriad combinations of texture and sensation, but it was so hard. He was torn between that need and the desire that was building, making it hard to control his actions. The back of his mind knew exactly what was happening, but he did not want to rush this, to end it all too soon.  
  
Sara sighed, shaken that such a simple thing as his touch could be so arousing. She wanted to touch him, to return the feelings but she held back, taking it all carefully, not overwhelming him or doing anything that might cause him to pull away. One of his sudden reactions would ruin the evening and could irreparably damage his emerging confidence. But she could feel him; he was not frightened, not really. The whirl and flow of his emotions almost to fast to follow, especially when caught up in her own. She was not longer sure which of them was feeling what, too close to separate. He was adapting to it better, years of experience and control making it easier to accept, and she drew on that, drew her confidence from it. It amazed her, hands which could kill, also knew instinctively where to touch, how to make the nerves respond so completely. Ian was a very quick study, responding to every move, sound, even the flow of feelings between them. He was fascinated by the sensations, wanted more. He kissed, touched, explored every inch of skin bared to his hands, his lips, the brush of his short beard against her skin, even the feel of his hair as it slid against her caused her breath to catch in her throat and she was almost completely lost, in his feelings and hers.  
  
The need to touch him was too much, she pushed him back a little and he responded immediately to her touch. She reached over and started to unbutton the top of the black pajamas, soft cool fabric against her warm palms. He followed her motions, tried to help, but she pushed his hand away There was a brief moment of embarrassment, of shame, at the thought of Sara seeing him naked, the physical reality almost shaking him free of the moment. But her feelings of awe, of pleasure flowed thorough him, driving away the doubts with renewed pleasure. He laid stock still, waiting for his body to tense or flinch away unconsciously as it usually did, but nothing happened, only the feel of cool air against his warm chest as she opened the shirt. He shrugged out of it and moved, suddenly wanting to feel her soft skin against his. She let her hands flow over his back, pausing occasionally to run them again over some rough spot or scar she felt against her palm. He was beautiful, unbelievably beautiful, every muscle lean and sculpted from years of training. She had seen him without his shirt before but this was the first time she felt free to stare, to drink him in without making him uncomfortable because he had already done the same. She ran her hands down his chest and was rewarded with the sudden indrawn breath as her fingers brushed sensitive nipples. She felt him clamp down hard, reasserting years of control over his mind and body, not letting go.  
  
He began exploring again, his hands slipping just beneath the waist of her cotton pants, wanting and needing more. Sara shifted her hips up, letting him pull them down her legs, leaving her wearing nothing but simple panties. She was getting increasingly restless under his hands, needing to feel him closer. His reaction amazed her, without prompting he stripped out of the last of his clothing, and moved to pull her completely against him. He was holding on to sanity by a thread, control more a matter of ingrained habit than conscious effort at this point. She kissed back running her hands over him anxiously, wanting to make up for the time that she had lost in making him comfortable. She kissed his throat, nipped his ear, heard his breath catch as she found a particularly sensitive spot at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Ian groaned, not sure how much more his overtaxed and underused nerves could stand of her. It was taking too much effort to keep from completely losing himself in Sara.  
  
"Ian," she whispered his name, her voice strained, hoarse. He looked at her, his eyes wild, unable to speak, only feel. He pulled back, removing the last of her clothes, pushing her gently back. Instinct took over as they both felt the last of his control shatter like glass. Passion, need, longing, emotions that had been suppressed in him since before he truly understood them, resurfaced suddenly. She pulled him closer, her need was just as great and all she could think about the two of them coming together. All the dreams, all the visions, coalesced in one thought between them. It was so easy to sink into one another, to just feel without thought. He moved so smoothly, felt so good, and she held him tighter, fingers digging into his shoulders, breath caught in her throat. She heard him cry out her name and they both let go together, spinning out of control, until they collapsed in a breathless heap. For a brief moment, it seemed that everything had gone black, but her vision cleared, Ian's head was next to hers, buried in the pillows, stray lock of hair trailing over her. She could feel the dampness of tears against her skin and for a moment she was unsure whether they were his or hers and realized it was both. She reached up gently and brushed his hair from the side of his face.  
  
Ian groaned, he had never felt so weak in his life. He took a moment, the shock of being alone in his own head after that.he could not even. He gave up. He tried to raise himself, to move away from her, but Sara still had her arms wrapped around him and did not let go.  
  
"Sara?" he asked, a little uncertainly, trying to reassure himself that she was all right. He had not even known that it was possible, for their emotions to join like that without control, and was unsure whether his practical Sara could handle it. His Sara, the possessive even in his own mind startled him a little. He felt her shift a little and realized that he was still on top of her, his weight pressing into her. He began to move immediately, but she would not let him, her arms still locked around him, keeping him close. "I should move, I could hurt you."  
  
"Not yet, just lay still for a moment," she told him, still a little breathless. "Take your time." He looked at her with an awed expression. Never in his life had he pictured anything like what had just happened. Her acceptance, her love of him, something he had given up long ago as impossible was too much for him to grasp at the moment and as contented as he was, he would not pursue it. His eyes were glowing with adoration, and for the first time it didn't bother her because it was no longer the gaze of supplicant to Goddess, but a man for the woman he loved.  
  
"Sara?" he asked sleepily as she released her hold on him, allowing him to move away. She snuggled up close to him, moving his arm around her neck so she could put her head on his shoulder, against his chest. She laid a hand across his waist and looked up into his eyes. "Have you ever.I mean, is that.?"  
  
"Normal? I don't know. It wasn't like anything I ever...It was special, beautiful. Was it everything you dreamed?" she asked, her eyes glowing in the dying firelight.  
  
"More, so much more. I.I cannot explain what this means to me."  
  
"You don't have to, I think I understand," her voice was tired, and her eyes were half closed. "We should sleep," she told him.  
  
"Sara, I love you," he whispered, as he slipped easily into the sleep of the exhausted. Sara started to answer, but was asleep herself before the words were out of her mouth.  
  
Ian woke in the early hours of the morning to find that last night had not been a particularly vivid dream. Sara lay, warm and naked, curled in his arms, hair spread out over his chest, one leg across him, head buried in his shoulder. He looked at her lying there, wanting to touch her, afraid that if he did he would wake her and everything would change again. She was like no other woman in the world and she finally understood, wanted to be with him. The lack of experience had not even bothered him, so wrapped up in his father's vision, until Sara. It made him more determined than ever to make everything work out, to make this work. He wondered how his father would respond to this change. He was probably furious in whatever hell he had found himself. Now Ian would go on with his life, create a new vision for himself, for Sara. He reached out gently and brushed her hair back so he could study her face. She was deeply asleep, no dreams troubling her, no restless tossing as she spent so many nights doing. She had been so different when she came to his room last night. He had only once seen her so unsure before and that was just after she had gotten the Witchblade, in the church when she had first tried to enlist his help with it. He wanted her to sleep but at the same time he wished that she were awake so that he could be sure that everything was still all right. Last night had been.intense, and he knew that it was not what she had expected either. That the two of them had been so connected, so intimate on an emotional level, had left him with more than a few questions and possibilities. But he was still concerned about what was happening, what would happen between them now. He reached down and gently touched her face, feeling her soft skin against his palm. He wondered what to do, how to treat her now.  
  
Sara awoke with the soft touch of Ian's hand on her face, his warm body beneath her, feeling cozy and safe in the small room that he called his own. She looked up and smiled at him, his eyes soft in the dark. He had such beautiful eyes. "Hey, Bright eyes, you going to spend all morning watching me?"  
  
"I would spend forever watching you, if you would let me," he told her, running his hand through her hair, waiting to see how she would react this morning.  
  
"Yeah, well that could be a problem, but I think we can work something out." She raised her head and gave him a little kiss, trying to reassure him that things were still ok between them.  
  
"Sara," a thought occurred to him, "why do you call me that?"  
  
"What? I don't know, it seemed appropriate at the time, besides, you do have beautiful eyes," she told him. He smiled, ducking his head a little at the compliment, wondering how to express what he wanted to say. Sara stretched a little against him, the feel of her causing his pulse to race all the more. She smiled and rolled over more fully against him, enjoying the reaction she was getting. Her smile was an invitation that he was unable or unwilling to resist. He kissed her, letting himself enjoy the feel of her against him before sliding his arms around her and rolling them both over together. She giggled a little in pure enjoyment, before it became lost in his kiss.  
  
They felt their minds joining again as before, the feeling if anything more intense for their instant awareness of it. He was trying to continue last night's exploration but she was too impatient for that, pulling him closer and running her hands over his skin. The feel of her touch was still astounding, sending ripples through his entire body. He could feel his desire taking over as he tried to hold on, make each moment last as long as possible.  
  
Sara felt the rough edge of his passion in her mind and responded to it. She reached out for him, trying to pull him even closer, letting him know what she wanted, not giving him a chance to think, only to react to her. They merged easily, as if they had been lovers forever. The shock of it all made every nerve respond at once. It was almost unbearable, this need to be a part of each other. Too easy, too intense, beyond emotion or reason, they found themselves out of control together.  
  
They collapsed in a heap, still tangled together, enjoying the feel of simply holding each other in the early morning light that seeped through the drapes. Sara had never been so content. No one else had ever been so much a part of her, able to respond to her feelings alone with out urging or explanation. It was frightening and disconcerting and comforting at the same time. She cast a look down at her wrist where the 'blade was calm again, its swirling colours returning to normal. It should have made her angry that it interfered even here, in her most intimate moments, but considering everything, she was just too tired, too happy to complain. They were meant to be together, that was what everything, every instinct was telling her. She wondered why she had not seen it from the beginning. But then perhaps that would have been a little too suspicious and too much for them both to deal with at the time. The situation was difficult now, with Irons alive it would have been impossible. Besides, she did not believe in love at first sight. She looked up at Ian as he pulled her closer.  
  
"Sara, I." he started, but then just kissed her. What do you say to such an experience? He held her closer and began to drift off into a completely happy slumber. Sara followed him a moment later, both of them needing a little more sleep before facing a trying day. 


	28. Part 5 F

The ringing of the bedside phone brought Ian out of his comfortable sleep. He picked it up, wondering what it was that needed his attention. The thought of moving from his comfortable place beside Sara was not something he was considering at this moment. "Yes?" he said as he picked it up, trying not to wake her as she stirred next to him.  
  
"Sir, I took up the coffee as you requested but Miss Pezzini is not in her room and her bed has not been slept in." Mrs. Hancock told him, her voice a little concerned. He remembered that he had asked that coffee be brought to Sara this morning.  
  
"She is fine, send the coffee down here, please." He reached for the table and checked the watch there. They were both going to have to start moving soon anyway.  
  
"Yes Sir," Mrs. Hancock answered, there was a note in her voice he could not identify. "Shall I bring some breakfast as well?"  
  
"Yes, do that." He hung up the phone to find Sara staring at him. "Coffee will be here soon," he told her. She looked a little confused until the reality struck her.  
  
"Someone is bringing coffee here?" she asked with a certain measure of embarrassment showing on her face.  
  
"Yes, I had arranged for it to be brought to you in your room, but as you are not there." She interrupted him.  
  
"So you sent someone to bring me coffee and they called because I wasn't there. I got that, but you told them to bring it here?" He gave her a confused look.  
  
"Yes, what is wrong?"  
  
"You mean besides the fact that I am about to be discover in your bedroom by someone who doesn't know me from Eve's house cat, or the fact that I am sure the whole house knows by now just where I spent my evening?" she told him, trying to get through to him as she sat up trying to figure out where her clothes had gotten to. "You don't even drink coffee that I know of. What are they going to think?"  
  
"Sara, I have never known you to care what most people think. No one will treat you any differently for this."  
  
"Just help me find my clothes please?" she told him. He rose gracefully, suddenly aware that he too was underdressed and slipped on a robe from the foot of the bed, tossing her the tee shirt that was laying on the floor. While he was less concerned than before, less embarrassed by her seeing him undressed, still now would not be a good time for her to get a good look at him. There was enough happening that he did not need her any more upset than she already was. He knew that some of his scars would disturb her. "You may be used to having these people around, knowing what you are doing all the time but I am not." She threw back over her shoulder as she continued to search among the covers for the rest of her clothes.  
  
"They rarely know what I am doing, that is not a part of their job," he pointed out to her. He knew she was upset but it really was not making much sense to him. Sara was getting more upset by the moment as she sat in the middle of his bed. The sight was incredibly distracting, and he wrenched his eyes away, trying to get his thoughts back on what he was doing. Convinced that it would be better for both of them if she calmed herself, Ian walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out another black robe, handing it to her in the hopes that she would calm down. It would also serve to keep his mind on track, he was not sure why, but he was having more trouble focusing than before. She pulled the robe on and dashed into the bathroom as someone knocked on the door.  
  
Mrs. Hancock took a brief moment outside Ian's door to try and get her expression under control. She had gone from Miss Pezzini's room straight to the kitchen, almost dancing down the stairs. She entered the kitchen with a smile on her flushed face to find her sister, the cook, busy preparing something at the stove.  
  
"You brought the tray back? Did she not want the coffee?" Cook asked as she turned around to see the broad smile on her sister's face. "What? Has something happened?"  
  
"Miss Pezzini was not in her room, and you will never guess where I found her." she told her, trying to wipe the smile off her own face.  
  
"Where, she wandering through the house already, she did not strike me as the sort."  
  
"She is in Mr. Ian's room, from all appearances has been all night." She let the statement sink in as she stood there in the hot kitchen.  
  
"She.what?" Cook said as she started to get the idea.  
  
"He would like me to bring down the coffee and breakfast," she told her.  
  
"He.they... That's wonderful, what do you think of her?"  
  
"Have not decided, but he seems happy, happier than he has been certainly, and she did bring him home."  
  
"Let me get that tray fixed up, have to make sure they are eating properly," Cook said as she turned to her work, an identical smile on her face. As Mrs. Hancock took the now loaded tray from the kitchen, she heard her sister pick up the house phone.  
  
"Henry, you will never guess what our Rose just told me."  
  
Now she stood outside the door, trying to get her face back into its accustomed blank look, not wanting to embarrass them. She spared a brief thought to what Mr. Irons would think if he were here, but decided that it hardly mattered, considering. She had always thought he was too harsh with Ian anyway, kept him too close. Not natural, not good for either of them, but who could ever tell that man anything. She knocked and Ian answered the door, wearing nothing but a long dressing gown. She almost blushed this was another new development. She had not seen him this informal before, not since he was a small boy, and where were his gloves?  
  
He held the door open for her and motioned for her to put the tray on the table. He would have offered to take it from her but he had tried that once and been scolded for his troubles. "Thank you, Mrs. Hancock, that will be all," he dismissed her quickly, anxious to get Sara out of the bathroom and back in here with him. "Sara, the coffee is here, and we are alone again, please come back," he said, pouring her a cup of coffee and taking it as far as the door. It always had made her happy in the past.  
  
Sara emerged from the bathroom, his robe over her tee shirt, grabbed the cup and proceeded to drink half of it straight down, without a word. "Well the coffee is good, I will give you that," she said, trying to lighten the mood. She realized as she was hiding in there that he just didn't get it. He had been raised this way and so it was nothing unusual. For her it was a completely different world and she had not had time to adjust. They had been nice enough to her last night but who knew how they would treat her after this. She did not want them to think of her as a gold digging whore and no matter what Ian said she was afraid that was exactly what she would end up looking like. But these were things that she would have to work out for herself. She walked over to the table and sat down next to it. On the tray were pastries, strawberries, and a rose in a small vase, along with the coffee pot and a pitcher of juice and glasses. "I suppose we should eat, it is going to be a long day."  
  
"Yes, and if we don't finish the cook will be deeply insulted. She used to complain regularly that I was not home enough to get a good meal," he said lightly, taking the other chair. They sat and ate in silence, trying to figure out what to say to each other. He felt foolish, he should have realized that she might be embarrassed by the situation but it had honestly never occurred to him. She was not the first female guest in this house by any stretch of the imagination but he did not think that reminding her of that would be a comfort when she realized what he meant; besides there was no comparison between Sara and his father's.companions. "Sara, I'm sorry, this is very new to me and I did not think you would be so upset. I just wanted to make you comfortable."  
  
"I know, it's just a big adjustment, and with today." she stopped, trying to put words to the thoughts that were running through her head. "We are in pretty strange territory. Let's just not talk about it ok? It's my problem and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. Everything has just been happening too fast, we have mostly been reacting."  
  
"Do you regret." he started to ask, but then stopped, the words too painful to get out.  
  
"Us? No, not at all, just the situation that brought us together." She reached out and took his hand. "Ian, I am fine with it, are you?"  
  
"I love you, Sara, you know that," he told her, looking at her with an intensity that almost made her pull back. She caught herself wondering briefly if she had done the right thing last night, but she knew she was just rationalizing, trying to retreat as she had in the past when the emotions got too intense. She was not really any better at it than he was. At least he had no problem telling her how he felt.  
  
"Then the rest I guess we just play by ear," she said, rising from the chair. "Now, I need a shower. Care to join me?" She had a challenging look on her face as she waited for his response.  
  
Ian looked at her and swallowed hard. The thought of sharing a shower with her had never entered into even his wildest dreams but he was not one to turn down a challenge. "If you wish, Sara," he said, putting a bold smile on his face. The thought of his scars bothered him briefly as he followed her across the floor but he dismissed it, hoping that he could find some way of distracting her.  
  
Ian followed Sara into the bathroom slowly, giving her a little time to get into the shower. He wanted to be careful, easy intimacy was not a natural thing for him, and especially since their relationship had changed, deepened he was moving in completely unfamiliar territory. He walked into the bathroom after she had stepped into the shower, removing his robe slowly. He would have to do this very carefully. Today they did not need any more stress.  
  
Sara stepped into the shower, adjusting the temperature upward to heat up things more quickly. She wondered if he would follow her, if it was too much too soon. Although after this morning she figured he was adjusting just fine, she wanted to be careful and still manage to keep things as 'normal' as possible. He was certainly adjusting a lot better than she was to the situation in the house. She supposed that it was the same thing in a way. Both of them had to adjust to new things. Sara did not know if she could ever get used to it, but for him she guessed she would have to do something, at least try. It was going to take some doing though. She heard the door open and smiled. A moment later, the shower door opened and Ian stepped in behind her.  
  
He reached out and put his arms around her pressing his chest against her back, standing under the hot water, just enjoying the feel of her resting against her. Sara picked up the soap; something woodsy that smelled familiar but she couldn't place it. She began to soap up his arms, slowly letting him adjust, get comfortable. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of her hands against his skin. She turned in his arms slowly running soapy hands over his chest and stomach, watching his muscles quiver beneath her hands. He ran his hands over her back, trying to relax.  
  
"Ian, look at me," she said, wanting to see his warm brown eyes. She reached up and brushed his face with the back of her hand. He looked down at her, wanting to enjoy the sight of her, but not wanting to stare where she could see him. But Sara encouraged him to look, to touch. "Turn around, I'll do your back," she offered.  
  
"No," he said a little more forcefully than he meant to. "No, Sara please, I just want to look at you." If his sudden change of mind bothered her, then she gave no sign. Sara smiled and wrapped her arms around him, pressing close against his chest to run soapy hands down over his back. She enjoyed the feel of his skin against her, but in combination with the warmth of the water she was beginning to wonder if this had been such a good idea. They had things that had to be done and she had a feeling that this was leading somewhere else entirely.  
  
Sara leaned back to give him more room under the spray of the water and offered him the soap. He looked at her, eyes turned darker with pleasure as he began to return the favor. He was entranced by the texture of her warm, soapy skin beneath his palms. The smell of his sandalwood soap on her, somewhere in the back of his mind he thought of it almost as a scent mark, a sign of possession. She gasped a little as his hands found a sensitive spot on the inside curve of her hip. His breathing was getting a little faster and he could feel her response coming up fast. Ian pulled her back under the shower, as they quickly washed away the last of the soap and he gave her a lingering kiss. Sara wrapped her arms around his neck as he picked her up and pushed the door open, taking her back to the bedroom.  
  
"Ian, hurry, we don't have much time," she whispered. The fire in his dark eyes was all the response either of them needed.  
  
Sara smiled at Ian as they began to move, still drowsy with pleasure and contentment. He makes me so happy, she thought, who would ever believe.Ian reached out and ran a hand over her shoulder. "Sara, I don't understand why, but I just cannot seem to think about anything but you." She laughed and he gave her a puzzled look.  
  
"It's ok, a new relationship is always like that. When you're together all you can think about is each other, when you're apart all you can think about is being together. I feel the same way," she told him reassuringly. "But now we have to concentrate."  
  
Her admission brought a look of surprise and pleasure to his face. She not only understood what was going on inside him, but returned the feelings. It was exhilarating. "I am, my love, on you." His warm voice sent shivers up her spine, and she took a moment to re-center herself. Suddenly a thought like a bucket of cold water crashed down on her.  
  
"Damn, my clothes are still on the other side of the house." 


	29. Part 5 G

Dr. Immo arrived promptly at ten o'clock. Ian was showing all the signs of having his father's patience. Wilson greeted him at the door as usual and began to show him through to the den. "Morning, Wilson, I take it that he is waiting?"  
  
"Yes, Doctor, as well as the Detective."  
  
Ah, thought Immo, I finally get to meet Sara Pezzini in person. Interesting."What do you make of the Detective, Wilson?" Wilson gave him a reserved look, making it obvious that he found the question impertinent.  
  
"It is not my place to say, Sir. I believe any questions regarding the lady should be directed either to herself or to Mr. Nottingham." Changes here too, the Doctor noticed, Ian had brought the household staff firmly under his control, securing their loyalty to him as to Irons, no longer anyone's lost little boy. Wilson opened the door, admitting Immo into the den. Ian was sitting in his father's chair before the ever-present fire. He noticed them enter and nodded a dismissal to Wilson in a gesture that the Doctor found both familiar and disconcerting in its own way. He walked across the floor to find the other occupant of the room standing in the shadows between the chair and fire, watching him, one hand resting casually on Ian's shoulder. The position was reminiscent of Irons in its own way, and suddenly he started to wonder exactly what the relationship was between them. She was smaller than he expected her to be, standing the shadows as Ian always had in the past.  
  
Ian rose and shook the Doctor's hand, gesturing him to a chair. "Dr. Immo, may I present."  
  
"Detective Pezzini, it is nice to finally meet you in person," he addressed Sara as she stepped forward.  
  
she thought sharply at Ian. He glanced at her and smiled. The doctor reached out to shake her hand, noticing the interplay between them, even more confused about the relationship than ever. Telepathy, perhaps? He had assumed as much from some of the comments Irons had made over the years, but was never quite sure what he believed.  
  
Sara took his hand as Ian started to say something. A vision- Ian, younger, strapped to a table, as the Doctor injected him with something, pain, fear. Ian crying wordlessly, struggling.  
  
She looked at the man before her, dropping his hand as the Witchblade shifted suddenly into Gauntlet form, the eye opening red and angry. Ian, sharing the vision, his flashback, with her, put himself between them as Sara tried to put both the 'blade and her feelings into there respective places. Forewarned.Forearmed.Now that she knew who she was dealing with she was determined to have a chat with him about a few things. Irons might be beyond her, but his pet Frankenstein was alive, breathing and standing right in front of her.  
  
Ian spoke reassuringly in her mind, trying to calm her, keep the situation from escalating.  
  
Immo backpedaled suddenly, eyes wide, almost falling over the chair. He had heard everything Irons had to say, seen the artworks, the manuscripts, but had only ever half believed. He had certainly not expected to be confronted with it. He watched as it retracted into a harmless bracelet on Sara's delicate wrist, although the stone continued to swirl angrily. "Well, that was.educational," the Doctor said, trying to regain a certain amount of his scientific objectivity, his usual response to anything unknown. "I assume it does not react that way to everyone." Sara started to open her mouth, to say a few things to him that she might or might not regret later.  
  
"That is not the matter which you were brought here to discuss," Ian interposed smoothly. "You are here to help us solve a little problem, not to speculate on matters which do not concern you." He once again gestured the Doctor to the chair, which he fell into, grateful to be off his rather suddenly unsteady feet.  
  
Ian returned to his chair, but Sara remained standing in front of the fire. "Now," he began. "I need a few things from you."  
  
"I will do what I can for you, what do you need?" Immo asked, glad to be on a safer topic. The sudden change in Sara's attitude reminded him rather sharply of the visions Irons had mentioned, and was sure he did not want to speculate on what she had seen.  
  
"My birth certificate, the real one, proof of my parentage," Ian told him.  
  
"That I can help you with, I kept a copy of your birth record. Also I witnessed the Will. Kenneth had it written in so that no one could challenge your rights as his heir, just in case. Wilson is the other witness, he can tell you the same. Am I to assume by this that you are ready to admit to Irons' death?"  
  
"I am going to have to, aren't I?" he said quietly. Sara walked over and placed a hand on Ian's shoulder, a simple gesture that spoke volumes to the Doctor, as did the grateful look he gave her before taking her hand in his. Sara looked at Immo, noticed the softening of his expression, he seemed to care for Ian as well, but that was not going to stop her from having words with him, later.  
  
"Now, Doctor, about Irons' Death Certificate."  
  
An hour later, the details all worked out, Immo rose to leave. "Doctor, I would like a few words with you, privately," Sara said, a somewhat tight smile on her face.  
  
"Sara, I." Ian broke in.  
  
"Nottingham," she began warningly, before calming herself with an effort. She tried again, "Ian, I need to do this, and you need to be somewhere else while I do."  
  
Immo spoke up quickly, not wanting to be the cause of disagreement between them, and also wanting to speak with her, reassure himself. Their relationship was a puzzle to Immo. He had not had enough time in this short interview to make an assessment. It was unclear as to which one of them was in control. She stood in the shadows beside him, but still.What was the balance between them? He did not want to see Ian's new freedom interfered with, to see him once again is someone else's power. And it would be so easy for a woman, this woman to take advantage of his inexperience. "Ian, she is right, there are things which should be said between us, alone." Ian backed down, more or less gracefully. He was concerned, wondering what Sara would say, what the Doctor would say, afraid that some of it would make Sara see him differently, bring fear, or worse, pity, to eyes that finally looked on him with love. She took his hand, slid her thumb beneath the leather to give him as much comfort and reassurance as she could.  
  
"Go on, It'll be ok, I promise," she said softly as she walked with him part way to the doors, watching as he left slowly. When the doors had closed behind him, she turned back towards the Doctor. "Now then, what exactly have you done to him?" her voice going ice cold.  
  
"That is a very broad question, Detective, perhaps you would like to be more specific?" Immo remained calm, he had known his life was in danger from the day he had first entered this house.  
  
"You hurt Ian, helped Irons do.whatever you two did to him. I need some answers and since Irons is not here, I will get them, from you."  
  
"Threatening me will get you nowhere, at this moment you need my help, both of you," he told her calmly. Having been threatened by Ian another one was not nearly as terrifying, even coming from this small woman with her supernatural weapon. "Besides, you are a police officer, isn't your duty to protect people?" his voice was almost flippant, after all he had nothing more to lose, really. His own self-worth had long ago plunged into the abyss.  
  
"I am," she said pointedly, " I am protecting Ian from you."  
  
"It's far to late for that," he said with mingled sadness and regret. "And he no longer needs it, not where I am concerned." Sara was taken aback by that. This was not the man.the monster she had expected.  
  
"Then why did you do it? You are a doctor, you are supposed to save lives."  
  
"I did," he said quietly, looking down at his hands. "My own." He stared straight into her eyes, letting her see the sadness there. "I sold my soul to Kenneth Irons long before either of you were even born." He continued in a voice filled with recrimination and self- loathing. " I wanted to change the world. With Kenneth's backing I thought I could." He gave a bitter laugh. "Instead I got drawn deeper and deeper into his obsessions, my own research long abandoned or corrupted. I brought Ian into this world and then had to watch, to help while he changed him. Kenneth loved him, in his own way, but he still continued, took a sweet, serious little boy and turned him into a killer, and all the time, Ian loved him, too, did anything that was asked, just to get his approval. It nearly broke my heart, but I had no choice."  
  
"Then why didn't you stop it?"  
  
He countered with a question of his own. "How many times did you meet Kenneth Irons?"  
  
"Just a couple, and the last time he tried to kill me."  
  
"Exactly, I did the best I could for Ian, but if I hadn't done it someone else would have. You couldn't fight Irons', especially where Ian was concerned." Immo looked at Sara's wrist significantly, " or maybe you could. But I didn't have your.advantage." There was a definite edge to the Doctor's words. Sara looked at the Doctor, her anger fading as she realized that he had a point. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  
  
"Ok, but answer this. Is Ian all right?" Immo looked at her, a little confused by the question she asked.  
  
"What do you mean exactly?"  
  
"I don't know what you did to him." the Doctor started to say something but she held up a hand. "Don't, I probably wouldn't understand it anyway and it doesn't really matter. I care about Ian, and I just want to know that he is safe, that whatever has been done to him isn't going to kill him, or make him crazy or suicidal, or anything else." She looked at him and waited for his answer. The Doctor smiled at her, pleased with what he saw, what he heard, reassured that she was not trying to control him as his father had done, that she genuinely cared for him.  
  
"No Sara," he said, daring to use her first name to reassure her. "If anything he is getting better, in large part thanks to you. Besides, you hold the key. Nothing else is necessary."  
  
"Yeah, Ok," she said uncomfortably wondering what the hell the man was talking about. Key to what? Did this house give off cryptic vibes or something? You get exposed and turn into Kwai Chang Caine? She shook her head and decided against asking. She could ask Ian later, but right now she wanted to get back to him. The wait was probably making him uncomfortable and she felt the need to make sure he knew everything was all right. "That is all I wanted to know."  
  
Immo rose from his chair, started to shake her hand, thought the better of it, reconsidered and shook it anyway. This time the Witchblade remained quiet. As Immo started to walk away, Sara called out after him. "Doctor?" He turned to look back at her. "Thanks."  
  
Up in the library, one of the shadows breathed a deep sigh of relief as Ian detached himself from his favorite listening post. He had a brief moment of panic when Immo mentioned the key, but was reassured by Sara's vaguely disquieted brush off. He would explain when he was ready, he promised himself. Later. Much Later. He slipped swiftly out of the room, hurrying around and down to meet the Doctor in the front hall. Immo stopped and offered Ian his hand. "Congratulations, you have done well."  
  
"Thank you." He walked the Doctor to the door, before returning to the den, and Sara. 


	30. Part 5 H

When Ian returned, he found Sara on the couch, sitting watching the fire, thinking. She looked up as he walked over and sat down beside her, cautiously slipping an arm around her shoulders. She rewarded him with a smile, letting him know that it was right. "I'm sorry I almost went off on him, I know it was a stupid thing to do, but I was so angry, so hurt for you."  
  
"It was a long time ago, I had almost forgotten myself. I just did not want you to think.differently of me. I have spent so long being the outsider, with only my Father to accept me. Now that I have found you, I could not bear the thought of that changing, of being alone like that again."  
  
"Nothing is going to make that happen, no matter what I am more convinced than ever that this is right." Ian let out a breath he was not even aware he had been holding. "Unless you change yours?" she asked a little cautiously. This was all so new and it frightened her a little.  
  
"No never. I have waited a lifetime to find you. Nothing could make me give you up now, not unless you decide that you no longer want me." The sincerity in his voice was chilling, the fact that she had so much power over him.  
  
"Ian, stop. Don't put this all on me. A relationship is composed of TWO people. You have a choice, you can decide to say no as well. I am not going to run your life for you, not now, not ever. I thought I had made that clear. I will not do it. You can't trade one master for another, even for love." Her voice was sharper than she intended but she did not want to have this conversation with him now. Or ever if she was honest with herself. But they needed to, she just wished it had happened later.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sara. I do not mean it that way. I know I have to make my own way. I want to do that, to be a true partner to you," he looked at her, a shy, pleading glance. "But I may need to lean on you a little. While I find my way?"  
  
It was hard for Sara to picture, the big, deadly assassin needing to lean on her. But with that big eyed innocent look on his face she couldn't resist.  
  
"All right, but just a little," she said with a smile. He leaned over and gave her a kiss, pulling her close to him.  
  
"And now," Ian said, looking at his pocket watch. "I believe your friend Gabriel will be arriving at any moment for his first assessment of the task at hand." Sara started to respond when a knock at the door caused them both to turn. Wilson opened the door to admit the young antiquities dealer. Sara gave Ian a look of surprise.  
  
"How."  
  
"I will show you, Sara, some day," he told her with a smile, a promising look in his eye.  
  
Gabriel Bowman entered the large room cautiously. It was not that he was intimidated by the mansion or even that he was particularly afraid of Nottingham. He was, but the conversation with the man the other night had eased his fears somewhat and they had a mutual interest in old things. What was bothering him was the task itself. The collection was legendary and he was being brought in to take care, to catalogue and research. It was a formidable task; Irons had systematically bought all of the available artifacts and manuscripts with a bearing on the Witchblade. It was very important; Sara needed the information in order to understand the strange turn her life had taken. He walked into the room, taking in the sight of the two of them curled up on the couch in a very cozy position. It made him feel a little more comfortable, just a little. He was a touch jealous at the sight, but quashed the feelings. He had known from the beginning that she was not of his world.  
  
Ian stood up and offered his hand to the young man. Gabriel took it cautiously, shaking it and then turning to give Sara a quick and careful hug, his eyes on Ian the whole time. It seemed that the two of them had settled their differences in a big way but he refrained from saying anything. It still stung just a little, to know that she was now well beyond his reach.  
  
"Gabriel, glad you came, you are a lifesaver," Sara said, trying to make him more comfortable.  
  
"Yeah well, anything for a friend and all that," he said a touch embarrassed.  
  
"This is a touch more than that, Mr. Bowman, as you well know," Ian said with a smile. "It is an opportunity for all concerned. Would you like to take a look at what you have volunteered for?"  
  
"You bet," Gabriel said, excitement overriding everything else. Ian laughed a little; the boy's enthusiasm was contagious. He felt like a child showing off his toy collection. In many ways he was, he thought, showing off the only friends he had had for a very long time. And now he had someone to share them with, someone besides his father who understood his passion, or at least his old one, he thought with a bit of a smile.  
  
"Come then, we will begin with the Gallery and I will show you where you can set up. Sara?"  
  
"You guys go ahead, I think I will just sit here and wait." This would give the two of them a chance to talk and settle things between them without her around to distract them or cause tension, for them to find their common ground.  
  
"If you are certain," Ian asked questioningly, as she waved them both on.  
  
"Go, have fun." She didn't want a reoccurrence of last night's visions and the gallery was just ripe with them. Ian did not exactly have friends of his own yet and everything would be much easier if her friends accepted him. Actually he and Gabriel had at least one interest in common, and she was pretty sure that once he and Danny had a chance to talk martial arts, she was going to have trouble getting a word in edgewise. The thought of the two of them sparring together was enough to get her heart racing. Talk about poetry in motion, like a deadly pas de deux between two premier dancers.  
  
Lost in thought, she was startled when she heard the knock at the door. "Come in?" she said a little cautiously. She had no idea what to say and did not want to be pushy, giving orders in Ian's house when she didn't even know the rules. Wilson entered with a coffee tray, accompanied by the sound of claws. Walking next to him were Caillian and little Maria, trotting as fast as her paws could carry her.  
  
"Mr. Nottingham asked that I bring you some coffee, Miss. I am afraid that the dogs got away from me. I will remove them if you like."  
  
"No thank you," she said, lifting the puppy into her lap. "I could use the company."  
  
"Very well," he said with a smile. "If you need anything, or have any questions." His tone was kind and she turned in time to catch the look on his face. He was trying to make a decision, how far should he go? What could he do to make her more at ease here? "Miss?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"This is hard to say, and perhaps not my place, but speaking for the staff, we are very happy to have you here. It has been hard for him, and your presence makes it easier. I.I have said too much," he looked embarrassed and started towards the door.  
  
"Wilson," Sara said, stopping him with her voice. He turned to look at her. "I think I understand. Thank you." He nodded briefly, his face once more the carefully schooled mask.  
  
"If you need anything, Miss, just press number ten on the intercom and it will be seen to." He turned and left the room before his feelings got the best of him. She was, in fact, the right one for Ian, he knew that now, all would be well.  
  
Sara sat on the couch staring at the fire, her hand negligently petting the sleeping puppy. She was not sure how it had happened but she had become accepted by the staff, the closest thing to family that Ian had left in the world, except perhaps his remaining Black Dragon buddies and there seemed to be some sort of rift there. She wondered at that briefly, but it was a thought for another time and place. Wilson's words on the other hand were current, new and very surprising. It made her feel good to be accepted, even though the whole thing was still a little strange. She would have to ask Ian at some point what she was supposed to do, how to act around them. As it was she was still trying to get her bearings. She wondered when Ian would return. She didn't want to disturb him and Gabriel, not only was the work important but she wanted them to work things out between them. Sara needed to think, to get a hold of herself before Danny came and started asking hard questions and getting hard answers. It was difficult, to bring him into this, to worry about the effect on their friendship, their partnership. She wished she could explain everything to him, but he had a family and she would not do anything to put his job at risk.  
  
Ian entered the room, breaking her out of her thoughts. He moved over to her with a smile, settling next to her, with the puppy wiggling over to him for a little attention.  
  
"I see that you have had company while I was away," he said as he slipped his arm around her shoulders, pleased when she leaned into him. "Gabriel will do very well I think."  
  
"Yeah, but now that he is on it, you may have a little trouble getting rid of him."  
  
"He has already settled in, and I made arrangements for the staff to attend to his needs, so he will at least get fed," he told her, laughing. It had been a real pleasure to talk to him about the Witchblade, about what they needed to know, and about the artifacts in general. It was nice to connect with someone other than Sara at a personal level, to find someone who could even become a friend. It was nice to find that he suddenly wanted to have a friend, for so long he had thought that he did not need them. His father had believed that they would only distract him from him from his destiny. It was something that he was still getting used to, that his father's beliefs were not necessarily his own. Sara was once again staring into the fire, the concern plain on her face. He reached out and stroked her cheek, drawing her attention back to him.  
  
"One down." she said with a sigh as he looked down at her.  
  
"Yes, one down, and now the hard part. Are you sure you want to be here. I don't want you to be anymore involved than absolutely necessary."  
  
"Ian, I am involved. He is my partner, we have to make this work, and my presence will go a long way to helping with credibility," she said to him, smiling. "Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on the two of you." She grinned at him, taking the sting out of her words.  
  
"Sara, you know I will be on my best behavior," he said to her, a smile on his face. He leaned down and began to kiss her, when they both heard the doors open, Wilson entered the den with a tray containing lunch and more coffee. They both looked up at the same time but Wilson gave no sign that he had noticed them. The puppy leaped off their laps and ran across to him, sniffing his shoes before running back to Ian. Wilson set the tray down on the large table, and turned to him.  
  
"Lunch, Sir, shall I remove the dogs?" he asked.  
  
"No, that is all right. I think that this one has gotten rather attached to Sara, you can leave them for now," he said as the puppy ran over and attempted to scale his leg. He picked her up and sat her in Sara's lap as Caillian came over and put her head onto his leg.  
  
"Very well, Sir, if there is nothing else?" he inquired.  
  
"No, the next guest is not expected for another hour or so," he said, checking his pocket watch. "We will probably want fresh coffee by then."  
  
"Of course," Wilson responded, a touch reproachfully. Ian looked down at the rebuke, but smiled as well. He nodded his acceptance at the implied apology and left the room closing the doors behind him, a secret smile on his face. 


	31. Part 5 I

Danny Woo arrived at the Irons Estate, just like Sara had asked him. He wondered if she had finally managed to get them an interview with the man himself. What other reason could she have for asking him to meet her here of all places, on their day off? He drove up, parked and went to the front door where he was admitted and shown to the den. He had been in this room before, the day after they had landed this case, looking for Irons. The room is still pretty strange though, he thought. He heard the door close behind him and looked to find Sara and Ian sitting on the couch together, looking very much at home, with a big dog asleep on their feet. It was a little puzzling, the two of them in Irons house like that. What was going on? Sara and Nottingham seemed if anything more comfortable with one another, as if they had overcome some unexpected hurdle in their relationship and come out the other side closer, more confident. It was hard for Danny to get the idea out of his head that he was missing something important. Sara had definitely been going through a hard time, and while blind faith was all well and good, he had a feeling Nottingham was a part of it. Sara rose, putting down what looked like a grey rug, which came bounding over to sniff him. Danny realized it was some kind of puppy, and very friendly. Nottingham stood with her and they walked over closer to him. Danny started across the floor and met them next to the large table. Sara gave her partner a quick hug as a greeting, and Ian held out his hand. He was dressed in black again and wearing gloves, indoors. He thought about commenting but decided to just ask Sara later.  
  
"Hey Partner, glad you could come, I hope Lee was ok with losing you for a little bit." Danny shook Ian's hand and followed them across the room. "You want some coffee?" she asked, trying to calm her own nervousness with activity.  
  
"Yeah, sure, you want to tell me what's up?"  
  
"We will, why don't you sit down, I'll get this." Sara got Danny a cup of coffee from the service on the table and Ian gestured him to a chair next to the couch as he sat back down.  
  
"All right, now, you want to tell me what is going on. Nothing personal Sara, Mr. Nottingham."  
  
"Ian, please."  
  
"Ok, Ian, I'm Danny," he said a little cautiously, "and I'm confused. First, why are we having this little get together here and on my day off. Unless you've got an interview set up with Irons, I can't see why you needed me."  
  
"Well, for starters, we aren't going to be able to interview Irons at all, ever," Sara said, being a little more brutal than necessary in her own nervousness. "He's dead, Danny." Danny gave her a stunned look as she put a hand on Ian's leg to reassure him, noticing the way they seemed to be so connected. This comforted him a lot. Sara was not usually the least bit sensitive to others feeling, including and especially those she was dating. Maybe this was finally the real thing, weird but real. He pushed the speculations away as he tried to process the new information. Irons dead? So what were they doing here? So far more questions than answers, he returned his attention to Sara. "That's one of the things I needed to tell you. Remember when I promised you that I would tell you what I could when I could, well, it's time." She gave him a moment to process the information.  
  
"He can't be dead. There was nothing on the news or in the papers, even I would've heard it."  
  
"Danny, listen." she started. Ian interrupted her.  
  
"Sara, let me tell this," he said quietly. "Please, it is my story." Ian looked down at her, sadness on his face. Danny watched the two of them in silence, trying to get a handle on what was going on.  
  
Ian told his story quietly, almost emotionlessly, starting with meeting Sara at the museum before the explosion, while looking over Mr. Irons collection, and ending with his death. As he got closer to the end, his voice got quieter, sadder. Danny didn't know what to make of it all. He was pretty sure that there was more in it than was revealed by the words, but for some reason he believed him. Maybe it was the way Sara sat there, looking at Ian, reassuring him. He finished and looked up at Danny, there was something haunted about Ian's eyes that made him wonder even more about the strange man that seemed to be suddenly so important in his partner's life.  
  
"Whoa, ok, now I understand why you've been so jumpy partner. How much of this did you know before?" he asked.  
  
"Not much, I knew Irons was not doing well but Ian asked me to keep it a secret. The best interests of the company, stock prices and all that. If this gets out."  
  
"Yeah, no kidding. What are we going to do now?"  
  
"We aren't doing anything, the only reason I told you is that I promised. I don't want you involved. I'm going to talk to Joe tonight, try to arrange a meeting. The commissioner isn't going to want this getting out anymore than we do. With any luck we can close it and bury it in private."  
  
"I don't know, Sara, and what about credibility. I mean nothing personal, Ian, but why should they listen to you?" Sara gave Ian a significant look.  
  
"You have to tell him, finish it," she said. "You are going to have to tell people sooner or later, might as well practice." Sara took his hand. Ian sighed, heavily; it had been a long time.  
  
"They will believe me because I am Kenneth Irons' son." The room went completely silent as Danny digested this piece of information. It explained a lot, the holes in the records that Jake had gotten him, the Black Dragons, his move straight into Vorschlag, a man wanting to keep his son close.  
  
"You can prove it?" he asked. Ian simply nodded. "But Irons' never married, did he? I thought I read that somewhere, most eligible bachelor poll or something."  
  
"That is correct,"  
  
"Besides, you're, what, in your thirties? He would have had to have you at about twelve," he said, confused, wondering if they were playing with him.  
  
"Mr..My father was.well preserved for his age," he said mildly, not wanting to have to clear that up. "I can confirm what I am saying, right here if you like," he said, a little challenge in his voice. He knew that he would have to do this, but he had never before had to defend his parentage, his birthright, it had never been a issue.  
  
"How are you going to do that? A birth certificate can be faked. I'm not saying I don't believe you, but."  
  
Ian just nodded and rose, picking up the telephone. He spoke quietly and then replaced it, returning to the couch. "Just a moment," he said. There was a knock at the door, and Ian called out for them to enter. The butler or whatever he was that had greeted Danny at the door let himself in and walked over.  
  
"You called, Sir?" he asked respectfully.  
  
"Yes. Wilson, how long have you been here?"  
  
"Since 1964, Sir," he answered.  
  
"Please tell the detective who I am."  
  
"Sir?" he asked, a slight note of confusion in his voice.  
  
"It is important, Wilson," Ian said with a distinct nod of his head.  
  
"Very well, you are Ian Nottingham. Kenneth Irons was your father. Is that what you are asking me to confirm, sir?"  
  
"You know that for a fact?" Danny questioned, playing the devil's advocate. It made sense, at least as much as anything else did at the moment.  
  
"Yes, Detective, I have known him since the day he was born. Mr. Irons was a private man. He did not wish it to be known outside the house at the time. He was concerned that there might be some danger to Mr. Ian if others knew.  
  
"Not to mention a little embarrassing," Danny said under his breath. There was a startled look from all concerned.  
  
"No sir," Wilson said sharply. "He was never ashamed of his relationship to Mr. Ian."  
  
"Sorry, my mind is working overtime, got away from me, no offense meant."  
  
"None taken, it is a logical assumption if you never knew my father," Ian said, smoothing over the situation.  
  
"Is that all, sir?" Ian nodded and Wilson walked out the door, wondering if he were finally coming to terms with his new position. He certainly seemed to be taking steps to deal with it. This too was perhaps attributable to a certain green-eyed police detective.  
  
"There, Danny, you done with the interrogation?" Sara asked him sarcastically. She couldn't help it, this sudden desire to protect Ian, even from her partner.  
  
"Easy, partner."  
  
"Sara." Ian interposed. "He is only trying to help, it is a little much to take in at once," he said, surprised to find himself defending Danny to her. But he found he rather liked her partner, anyone who cared that much for Sara deserved his respect at the least.  
  
"Don't worry about it Ian," he said. "I'm used to abuse from her, that's why I'm her partner, no one else would put up with her." He teased a little. Sara raised her hand, making a smacking motion in his direction. The joking around lightened the mood quite a bit in the face of all the stress and they all laughed together, even Ian. The puppy took that opportunity to jump up from her place on the rug and attack Danny's shoelaces. He looked down at the furry little bundle and smiled, picking her up as she squirmed in his arms. "And who is this?" he asked, trying to keep her from licking him as she wiggled and wagged her happiness to the world in general. Caillian raised her head from the rug and gave her daughter a watchful stare.  
  
"That is Maria, she seems to have attached herself to your partner," Ian told him with a grin. Once again, it was puppies to the rescue.  
  
When Danny left, Sara collapsed back against Ian, the immediate stress handled for the moment. She was tired, really bone deep tired, but at the same time wound up too tight to really completely relax. Ian ran a hand through her hair, and she sighed a little, wishing they could just spend what remained of the weekend curled up in his room before the fire. It was a little startling to realize how quickly the place had grown on her. She had hardly thought of Irons, of his death here except in the abstract, how it affected their plans, their future.  
  
"Tired, my love?" Ian asked her, pulling her closer. He was still entranced with the simple act of holding her. The need to be in physical contact with her was a heady experience and he wanted to enjoy every moment, heedless of anything else.  
  
"Yeah, a little."  
  
"We have some time, if you want to take a nap," he suggested.  
  
"Nah, too keyed up to sleep. I just need to burn off some energy or maybe just excess stress and caffeine."  
  
"Then perhaps you would like to work out? I know how much you enjoy pummeling helpless objects into submission." She gave him a surprised look, his sense of humor seemed to be coming along as well.  
  
"You volunteering?" she asked.  
  
"I am hardly helpless, and I would love to, but I should check on Gabriel and I need to make sure that I have all the documentation we need."  
  
"Gabriel, oh damn, I had forgotten he was here. I should probably go see him." Now she felt like a real heel, first she asked him to do her a favor and then she ignored him.  
  
"I doubt he would notice. I am merely curious to see how he is getting on. Why don't I show you to the gym and I will join you when I have finished?" She started to protest but he interrupted. "I will tell Gabriel where you are and if he is ready to take a break he can join us there. Will that satisfy you?"  
  
She thought about it for a moment, she really wasn't in the frame of mind for a little light chat and working out sounded like a good plan. "Yeah, that will work," she told him, pulling herself up before she got too comfortable to move. Ian rose, offering her his hand and they left the room in search of diversion, a little something to take the edge off the stress that they were both feeling. 


	32. Part 5 J

As the evening came on, Sara grew more and more restless. Nothing seemed to settle her; even sparring could not take off the edge. Ian did not know what to do, to say to make her relax. She now paced restlessly in front of the fireplace in the den, retracing everything in her head. Lying to Joe was not exactly something she was looking forward to. "What time do we need to leave so that you can drop me off?" she asked, absentmindedly.  
  
"Drop you off? I am coming with you, Sara. I will not let you face this alone." He looked at her sharply.  
  
"You can't go with me. I need to do this alone. Joe is more likely to listen to me that way."  
  
"Sara, I cannot."  
  
"Nottingham," she said, a warning note in her voice, which he chose to disregard in his concern.  
  
"You have no transportation. I will take you to your meeting and wait for you."  
  
"Dammit, you just can't go around lurking.well maybe you can, but this is kind of a cop bar and you'll be noticed there. You can wait for me at the apartment; maybe stay the night." she threw out hopefully, trying to distract him.  
  
"Or I could take you, wait for you, and bring you back here." He was equally determined. "What if your Captain wishes to ask questions of me? Is it not better that I be there?" Damn, I hate it when he is right, she thought to herself, suddenly hoping that she was not thinking too loudly.  
  
"Yeah, well your car is a little flashy for the neighborhood, and the parking is pretty bad." She tried a different tactic.  
  
"Then we will take my motorcycle, I know how much you love to ride." He smiled, knowing he had her caught. "Afterwards, I can bring you back here. It is a much longer trip that way."  
  
"You have a bike?" she asked, intrigued.  
  
"Yes, surprised?"  
  
"A little, no, not really, more like I never thought about it."  
  
"How else did you think I managed to follow you and find parking in the city?" he asked, amused. "I have two actually, a vintage Vincent and a new BMW. You choose."  
  
"A Vincent? I've never actually seen one but it's probably not the thing to take where we're going tonight," she said, torn between excitement and regret. "Can we see them now?" she asked, as excited as a kid at Christmas.  
  
"Of course, whatever you like," he said, pleased he had finally found something to keep her occupied for a while. He should have thought of that earlier, knowing how much she enjoyed her little Buell. Maybe he would even let her take the Black Shadow around the Estate. That would keep her more than occupied. He smiled and rose, offering her his arm as they walked out to the garage.  
  
Sara was in the hall pacing when Ian arrived dressed for riding in black leather pants, a black sweater and over top a black leather jacket that had obviously seen hard use. She was surprised by how relaxed he looked; anyone would think that he was just out for a ride. He had a file in his hand, which he gave to Sara. "The information on Merano, we don't want him at that meeting," he told her. She nodded, taking the file and putting it inside her jacket.  
  
As they got to where they had left the bike parked earlier, Ian looked over at her. "Sara, would you." He pulled three elastics out of his pocket and offered them to her.  
  
"Sure no problem." He turned his back to her and she bound up his hair classic biker fashion, one tie every inch or so to keep it controlled on the ride. He leaned back into her hands, enjoying the simple pleasure of her hands in his hair.  
  
"There," she said, letting go. It would be too easy to sink into the feelings and let them both get distracted. He shook his head, both to clear his mind and to double check the security of his hair. Ian threw her a helmet and they both got ready to go.  
  
He got on the bike, a good-sized black BMW K1200, and offered her a hand up behind him. She settled in comfortably, it was nice to sit behind Ian, putting her arms loosely around him. She wondered how he would ride, his driving was pretty sedate but. The question was answered almost immediately, as he took off, opening her up so quickly that Sara immediately tightened her hold on him. The gates opened as they passed through and onto the quiet street behind the house. Sara decided to just relax and enjoy the ride. He was fast, but very good, weaving in and out of the complicated traffic patterns with the skill and finesse of a seasoned rider.  
  
Ian was enjoying himself immensely. He probably should not have taken off like that, it was not particularly good for the engine, but he could not resist startling Sara a little. Besides it made her tighten her grip, lean closer to him, and for that alone it was worth it. He was enjoying the freedom, being out racing the wind with her holding on behind him. He was sorry it had to be this particular evening that got them out on a chilly evenings ride, but they were here and it was enough for now. All too soon they were pulling up before a sign marked "Callahan's", the bar where she was meeting Joe Siri. He found a place to put the bike and they got off, removing their helmets. Taking a quick look around to assure herself that they were alone, she gave him an all too brief kiss.  
  
"Thank you, that was great."  
  
"Wait until the ride home," he said, a promise implicit in his words that she could not miss. They entered the bar, as Sara scanned the interior of the bar for Joe. She spotted him in the back at a booth by himself. She gave Ian a reassuring look as he sat down at the end of the bar quietly, willing himself to relax and more or less disappear into the crowd.  
  
Ian found himself a spot at the bar with a good view of both Sara and the door. He turned to the bartender and was ordering a club soda when something strange struck his eye. There, behind the bar, was the Longinius Lance, the ancient relic sharing the wall with photographs and fishing trophies. He almost choked, only keeping his expression under control through years of training. It was a subject that he and Sara would need to discuss, but not here and now. It was actually funny in a way, that the great weapon was relegated to a simple prop in a "cop bar". He almost laughed, but would do nothing to call attention to himself. He took a sip of his drink and let his mind wander as he kept an eye on Sara and scanned the room for trouble.  
  
She walked over to Joe, calling back to a few people she knew as she went. She sat down opposite him, placing her helmet on the floor and gesturing to the bartender for a drink.  
  
"So, Sara, what's so important that you have to meet me here on a Saturday? Marie is fit to be tied."  
  
"Sorry, but it had to be. I need your help. I've got something big to tell you and it's a real mess."  
  
"What's new? Vorschlag?"  
  
"Yeah," she told him. "It's gotten a lot more complicated." She laid out the story for him, avoiding telling him anymore than absolutely necessary. It wasn't like he wasn't going to hear the rest of it soon enough.  
  
"Damn, Sara, could you find a bigger mess to step in if you tried?"  
  
"Hey, I didn't ask for this case," she said a little louder than necessary. She was feeling a little defensive and while she knew she should not take it out on Joe it was hard to keep the nerves in check.  
  
"Ok, I'll give you that."  
  
"There's more." She told him about Ian, or at least as much as was necessary. Joe sat and sipped his drink in silence. He had noticed the guy dressed in black who had entered with Sara, who now sat at the corner of the bar watching her every move with a sort of restless, protective intensity. He was dressed like a biker, worn leather and black, but he didn't move like Sara's usual biker bad boy. There was something about him that struck Joe's trained eye as out of place. He moved too smoothly, and was too cautious, not so much of the crowd around him, but of Sara. So she had finally met her match. Most people would have missed it, but he had known her all her life. She was not one for commitments or for bringing her boyfriends around to meet him. It meant a lot to Joe that he came with her regardless of who he was or how he was involved in this mess.  
  
"Sara, why don't you go ahead and ask him to join us. I assume that is him in the corner."  
  
"Yeah, that's him." She caught Ian's eye and beckoned him over. He picked up his glass and moved smoothly through the crowd to join them. Sara slid over and Ian sat next to her, shaking hands solemnly with Joe. He knew that this man was important to Sara, the man who had been such a big part of her life since her father's death. He had to handle this well. He slipped his helmet under the table with Sara's and gave Siri a small smile. Joe noticed with approval that he was drinking just plain soda.  
  
"So you are Sara's new friend."  
  
"Yes, Sir," he said formally, letting the older man set the tone for the meeting. He had the look of someone who knew how to take care of himself, but he was polite and something about his voice made Joe think that he was not exactly as he appeared. Siri was pleased and surprised by his manners, but was trying to reconcile the discrepancies in his mind: Head of Security for Vorschlag and Kenneth Irons, biker leathers and Sara, and impeccable manners that were too smooth to be anything but habit and upbringing. Not to mention the way he looked at Sara, as if she were his entire world. If she had not been so obviously comfortable with him, he might have almost felt sorry for the poor guy. Joe loved her, but he was under no illusions about her, she was hard on relationships, too much fear, too much loss. It had always pained both him and Marie that she was still alone, and now along came someone that she seemed to care for and he is involved with one of her cases. Joe shook his head and opened his mouth.  
  
"Sara has explained it to me. Do you have documents, witnesses to prove all this?"  
  
"Yes, Sir, I do."  
  
"And you can produce the witnesses if it becomes necessary?"  
  
"Yes, Sir, although I hope this can be handled as quickly and quietly as possible. A scandal would do no one any good, and indeed do a great deal of harm." Sara sat and watched the exchange curiously. Joe was giving Ian all his attention, questioning him thoroughly on the details that she had already given him. He had been a good investigator in his day and even though he was a Captain now, he had lost none of his edge. Ian answered his questions simply and respectfully, completely aware of the necessity of convincing this man, not only because of the case but also because of his relationship with Sara.  
  
She reached out under the table and surreptitiously took his hand, offering her silent support. Not only did he have to deal with Joe in his official capacity, but for it to also be his first meeting with someone she considered family had to be a lot for him to take in. Sara had been so caught up in her own nerves this afternoon that she had really failed to consider just how hard this was for Ian. She thought back on the afternoon, the way he had focused on taking care of her needs and felt like a real heel. How could I be so selfish? He has never had to do anything like this before and all I could think about was saving my butt. She made a mental note to try and pay more attention in the future. It was so easy to forget that he had never done this before, never faced meeting a parent with his heart on his sleeve. This was something that most people got over in high school for crying out loud. She squeezed his hand a little tighter, anything to let him know that she was there for him.  
  
Joe finished his questions, satisfied that he had everything he needed. There was definitely more to this man than met the eye, but his instinct was telling him that for some reason it was all right. Ian had answered all his questions simply and directly, not getting angry or upset by him, but accepting the necessity and responding. He looked a little pale around the edges, and Joe figured he must be having a serious case of nerves. How often did a man have to meet his girlfriend's boss and substitute father in the same night and all over business that was pretty nasty to begin with. He had a feeling that there were things that were being left out, but he knew that he would get the whole story soon enough. Right now he had all he needed to know to get the ball rolling.  
  
"Well, I don't know how this will turn out, but I'll do the best I can for you, you understand that?"  
  
"Yes, Sir," he answered.  
  
"You don't have to be so formal, son. It's just Joe here."  
  
"Very well, Joe. Did Sara give you." he inquired.  
  
"No, here." She pulled the file out of her jacket and handed it to him, giving him a moment to look it over.  
  
"Damn, this accurate?" he looked at Sara and she nodded. "Explains a lot. I'm not going to ask how you got it. No one else knows about this right?" This time it was Ian's turn for confirmation.  
  
"The inquiries were made very discretely. I would never do anything that would put Sara at risk," he told him sincerely. Joe nodded, that was something he could believe. There was a look in his eyes that made his feelings for her abundantly clear. The tough old police captain would have felt sorry for him, if he had not seen a similar spark in Sara's eyes.  
  
"I need to go if I'm going to get everything set up for you. I'll call you, Sara. Meanwhile you be careful, got that? If something happens to you, your dad would never forgive me."  
  
"She is perfectly safe, Sir. I will see to that."  
  
"Hey." Sara started. Joe looked at Ian's face, the expression completely clear.  
  
"I do believe you mean that," he said as he rose to leave, shaking hands with Ian. She was definitely in safe hands. They rose as well and Sara gave him a hug.  
  
"Apologize to Marie for me, ok?"  
  
"I will, but you will have to bring Ian over for dinner to make up for it. She will be impossible until she meets him."  
  
"Sure," she said, looking at Ian, who nodded.  
  
"I would be honored," he said, politely.  
  
"Good. I'll let you know about that too." He turned and left and they resumed their seats to finish their drinks.  
  
"That went well, better than I expected. It's a good thing you came, it impressed him."  
  
"I am pleased then, he is important to you."  
  
"Yeah, he and Marie have been a big help. They are the closest things I have left to family."  
  
"Then I will do my best to impress her as well," he said, considerable more calmly than he felt.  
  
"With your appetite it won't be hard. It's kind of an Italian thing." Relief had flooded his system. They had gotten over what he considered to be the biggest hurdle and now he was feeling a little weak in the knees. He sat still, trying to regain his strength and listening to Sara tell her more about Joe and Marie Siri.  
  
She finished off her drink and reached for her helmet, but Ian stopped her. The ride back was supposed to be a pleasant one and he wanted to take care of a last little piece of business before they left, get it settled so it did not interfere.  
  
"Sara, there is one more little thing I would like to talk to you about before we leave," he said, his tone very serious. She gave him a confused look.  
  
"Sure, what's up? I think you handled that really well."  
  
"It is not about Joe. It is about a certain object of power which is at this moment decorating the back wall of this bar." Realization struck Sara like a lightning bolt. She had been so busy concerning herself with handling Joe that she had completely forgotten to warn Ian. She gave him an embarrassed look, suddenly concerned.  
  
"Yeah, that.umm," she took a deep breath to focus herself. She had not even been sure at the time she was doing the right thing. The spear was powerful, dangerous and probably worth a fortune, and she had given it to a barkeep to decorate the wall. "Look Ian, at the time I was a more than a little concerned and confused. That thing is dangerous. I didn't want to keep it in my apartment, and I didn't want to give it to anyone, not knowing what it might do to them. I had to do something. Mike is a good guy, he is keeping it safe until I figure it out."  
  
"Until we figure it out," he corrected her. "Sara, do you still not trust me? This is very important. You are right when you say that it is dangerous. It drove my father into insanity and you want to let it sit on a wall like a dress sword?" There was hurt in his eyes and more than a little concern as he looked at her.  
  
"No, Ian, I do trust you.We would not be here if I didn't, but with everything going on, I just, it slipped my mind," she finished, lamely. Ian looked at her and his hurt vanished. It had been a week, a long week of lurching from emergency to disaster. There were plenty of things that he had not told her. He needed to let it go for now, he knew that. The Spear had been here for weeks and it was still hanging there.  
  
"Very well, we have both been distracted. But when this is over we need to deal with it. Perhaps Gabriel can once again be of assistance?" he questioned.  
  
"No," Sara said sharply. Ian gave her an inquiring look, and she hastened to explain. "I know what he told me about this thing, and I know what Irons said. You have seen yourself what it is capable of. I don't want anyone else taking the risk." He nodded. It was understandable that she did not want to put the young man in danger. Both of them had already handled it without side effect, that they knew. In this case perhaps knowing less was an advantage.  
  
"As we are not dealing with this tonight," he said, "then why no return home?"  
  
"Let's go," Sara agreed. Putting it off was probably not the best way of dealing with it, but at the moment it was all they really could do.  
  
Ian smiled, picturing the trip back. With nothing waiting for them, they could take the long way. Although, he thought, perhaps with her behind me the shortest route would be best. 


	33. Part 5 fini

The ride home was thrilling. With few vehicles on the road once they passed the bridge, Ian was able to open the bike up. Sara was holding close to him, the faceplate of her helmet resting against his shoulder to keep the wind resistance down. It was if they could out run anything.  
  
Sara waited in Ian's room for him to return, sitting curled up in a chair by the fire. She had changed while she was waiting; putting back on the robe he had given her earlier, even though it was way too big for her. Ian was out checking the grounds and the security. She had volunteered to go with him, but he said he could do it faster alone, fewer distractions as he smiled and hurried off to his work. So she sat by the fire and thought. Things were going better than expected, with any luck this could all be settled in a few days and they could.what? Where did they go from here? She was a cop and the wielder; and he was, well, Ian. Ex- bodyguard/assassin, new owner of Vorschlag Industries, son of one of the richest men in the world., what did it all mean anyway? None of these things was conducive to peace and a long life. In the past being a cop had always been more than enough to make her leery of relationships, and the 'Blade had not changed that at all. This relationship had enough difficulties without help. But who else would understand? What other man could stand by her as the wielder? Where did that fit in, and how? The one thing she was sure of, having found him, she was unwilling to give him up, certainly not without a fight. Her reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door. She rose, pulling the robe tighter around her, wondering why Ian was knocking at his own door.  
  
She was surprised to find a short, round woman in an apron standing there carrying a tray. She bore some resemblance to the housekeeper, Mrs. Hancock. Sara blushed and gripped the robe tighter. The lady just smiled at her. "Mr. Nottingham wanted me to bring up some tea for you, dear. And since we had not met yet, I decided to bring it up myself."  
  
"I.uh. Please come in," she said at a loss for words.  
  
"I'm the cook, Mrs. Wilson. But just call me Cook, everyone else does." She walked past Sara and set the tray down on the table.  
  
"Thank you, Mrs..uh.Cook. I'm sorry I don't." Sara trailed off not knowing what to say to the friendly little woman.  
  
"Don't worry about it. I just had not had time to welcome you properly, so I decided to do my bit. A little overwhelming isn't it?"  
  
"Yes, I'm just not adjusting too well, I guess." Something about Mrs. Wilson made Sara comfortable, as if she understood.  
  
"Don't worry yourself, you're doing fine. We are all glad to have you here. glad to see him happy. After Mr. Irons death, we didn't know what to do."  
  
"But I don't." She tried to find words to tell her what was going on, to make her understand.  
  
"Shh, takes time is all. If you need anything, you just come down to the kitchen and ask me. I'll set you right, tell you anything I can. Being in the kitchen means I don't have to worry so much about formality.probably a good thing, that. I never was good at keeping my tongue. Now, you drink your tea, he should be up soon." Cook gave her a smile and bustled back out of the room, leaving Sara standing bemused in the middle of the floor, wondering whether it had all been real.  
  
A moment later, Ian walked in the door, pulling ties out of his long hair. He smiled at the picture she made standing there. The sight of her in his robe made him feel warm and a bit possessive. He was determined to keep her with him, no matter what. "Beautiful," he said softly. Sara looked at him, unaware of the thoughts her presence was arousing.  
  
"I just met the most amazing lady." Ian laughed.  
  
"Cook? Yes, she is very.lively. I trust that she made you welcome?"  
  
"Yes, she did. I don't understand why though. Why are they trying to make me comfortable? Don't they know that I am."  
  
"Sara." There was a warning note in his voice. "I told you before that it need never be mentioned again. I meant it. They want you to feel comfortable here because you make me happy. They have known me since I was a child, and I think they were concerned that without Irons around I would." he trailed off, not wanting to bring that thought to words again either, not around Sara. She came over to him and put her arms around him.  
  
"That also needs to never be mentioned again." She gave him a challenging look. "If anything is going to happen to you, be sure that I will have something to say about it. You promised me, remember?" Ian bowed to her, a smile on his face. Her fierceness on his behalf surprised and pleased him in ways he could not quite get into words.  
  
"Yes, My Lady, whatever you wish," he replied, half joking, half deadly serious. She rolled her eyes at him and turned to get a cup of tea.  
  
"What I wish is that you would stop saying things like that. You want a cup of tea?"  
  
"Yes, I would, but let me change." He wandered into the bathroom, gathering his robe on the way. He noted with a bit of internal amusement that Sara's bag was here and had been unpacked. Ian returned a few minutes later, his black robe on, hair loose around his shoulders. Sara had settled back into the chair and Ian took a seat by her feet, next to the fire. She handed him a cup of tea and they sat watching the fire in silence. They were both waiting for something, some sign or signal as to where to go. At that moment Sara's phone rang. She jumped up and went to find it where she had left it on Ian's nightstand.  
  
"Pezzini."  
  
"Sara, you've got your meet. One PP, ten-thirty in the morning, just the four of us." Joe Siri had been busy since the moment he left getting this all arranged. "Oh, and Marie expects the two of you for supper afterwards."  
  
"Uh, let me talk to Ian about that real quick, o.k.? I don't know what the plans are." She covered the phone with her hand. "Ian, Joe's wife wants us to have supper with them after the meet tomorrow. Do you think you're up to it?" Sara gave him a concerned look; unsure whether he was ready for that much in one day.  
  
"I will manage, Sara. It is all part of that normal life, correct?" He answered carefully, trying to hide his fear.  
  
"Something like that," she said as she turned back to the phone. "Yeah, Joe, that's fine. We will see you tomorrow then." She hung up the phone and put it down, returning to sit on the floor next to Ian, who put his arms around her. The real world had intruded on the end of their evening, adding a somber note, but at least they had their answer. Sara leaned into his shoulder.  
  
"Are you sure you want to do this? I mean supper. the other, well..."  
  
"Yes, I am. If we are going to make this work, I need to try to be a part of your world as well. This is the appropriate place to start. You have met my family, now I must face yours." His words were calm but his face was an unreadable mask, as if he were holding all his feelings in, mentally preparing himself for conflict.  
  
"Ian, it's not like you're going into a fight. It's just dinner."  
  
"Armed combat would be much easier," he said. She looked at him, unsure if he were joking or not, and saw that deer in the headlights look in his soft brown eyes. "You will help me?" he inquired pleadingly.  
  
"Yeah, besides, you impressed Joe, Marie should be a piece of cake." They sat looking at the fire for a long moment before Sara turned to him, a wicked grin on her face, a half formed idea taking some interesting routes through her mind. There was more than one way to take his mind of his fears about tomorrow. "Ian, we should probably turn in."  
  
He caught the look on her face and hastened to comply with whatever she had in mind, as always letting her take the lead in such things. He rose and offered her his hand, and turning quickly as she headed towards the bed. He hurried to bank the fire for the night and put out the light, leaving the room in almost total darkness. Sara slipped out of the robe, her body glowing pale in the dying light of the fire. The sight stopped his breath in his throat for a moment. He thought he could spend the rest of his life watching her and never tire of the sight. He moved slowly to join her, dropping his own robe across the foot of the bed as he got in beside her. He reached out for her, but she stopped him, taking his hand in hers, kissing his fingertips. "No.my turn," she told him. "Do you think you could keep yourself out of my head?" she asked him.  
  
"I suppose so," he answered, a little confused and concerned. "But why?" Had the emotional intimacy somehow offended her or frightened her? Certainly she was not showing any signs of reluctance  
  
"I just want to know if it's possible," she told him. "Now lay back." He complied with her request, not entirely sure what she was doing, but trusting her. He took a deep breath and tried to put up the shields in his mind as he had been taught, not an easy task, as she chose that moment to move close to him trailing a hand across his chest, drawing a line down to his belly button and back. She leaned forward and kissed him, teasing his mouth with her own as he reached for her. She shook her head and moved away. "No, it's my turn. Just lay still." Ian heard a strangled moan of frustration and realized it had come from himself. He was trying to concentrate, to keep her mentally at arm's length and now she would not even let him touch her. Years of mental discipline and training, everything that sensei and other experts had taught him had never come close to preparing him for this kind of challenge. He wondered how much his sanity could stand. Ian clutched the sheets with both hands; wanting to touch her so much it was painful. She kissed him, touched him, ran her hands over every inch of him that she could reach and then stretched out against the length of him, letting her whole weight rest against him. She traced his scars with her mouth, kissing here and there.  
  
"Sara." His voice was harsh, heavy with everything he was feeling. She continued, not allowing herself to give in to the longing. She had let him take the lead before, allowing him to explore, accustom himself to the new experiences. Now it was her turn to play. She enjoyed the texture of his skin, the play of muscle under her hands, even the feel of him against her skin. It was electrifying. She had never felt this kind of intimacy with anyone else and she wanted more. He had the most amazing body, soft skin over hard muscle. It was nice to see his response burning in his eyes and know that it was because of her. It was probably not fair to ask him to keep her out but she was afraid that the reaction would be too intense, too soon. She wanted to be able to enjoy the feel of him to her heart's content without letting him overwhelm her.  
  
Ian's eyes were wild. He was struggling against himself, not wanting to move for fear she would stop, afraid to let her keep going. He tried to relax his body, but between her touch and her kisses, much less the pressure of keeping his mind separate, there was no hope. Unable to stop himself, he reached out for her, wrapping his arms around her with a strangled cry as he gave her a hard kiss. He started to move but she pushed back, moving over top of him. His eyes widened as he finally grasped her intention and felt her gentle touch.  
  
Sara sensed his movement before he did and moved to anticipate. She pinned him back down to the bed beneath her and let the two of them slide together. He kissed her, hands that were usually so careful pulling on her hard, dragging her down, kissing and touching. He crushed her tightly against him, and she was not sure how much longer either of them could hold out as the weight of desire came crashing down upon them. Ian's concentration broke and the force of their two minds meeting brought pleasure that was almost painful. Sara lost control of herself and she felt him slip as well. It was like trying to ride a hurricane and when it stopped she was breathless, sweating, still on top of him, incapable of movement or even coherent speech.  
  
As she regained use of her body, Sara tried to move away from him, but Ian still held on to her so tightly, that she could barely breathe. She was pretty sure that she was going to have bruises in the morning, but it didn't bother her in the slightest. It had been well worth it. She was still reeling from the intensity and she was not sure that he was even conscious.  
  
"Hey, Bright Eyes?" she said softly. Ian looked at her, his eyes slowly regaining focus, but his voice still lost somewhere. He loosened his grip on her a little but still not enough for her to move.  
  
"Ssarra," he said, breathlessly. "I." He did not get any further, language still eluding him. She kissed him gently settling her head against his chest, listening to his heart beat return to normal, feeling her own slow in response and drifted off to sleep. 


	34. Part 6Endgame

Connections  
Part 6 - Endgame  
  
Ian laid watching Sara sleep. It was still so unreal to him that he had won, that they were together. He was free, his life had changed, and he had Sara. She lay snuggled against him naked, her skin soft against his. He shifted slightly just to feel the delicious friction as she slid against him, snuggling closer in sleep to find the most comfortable position. He could not seem to get enough of that feeling. After so much isolation it was unbelievable to him, all of it. He had never felt so sensitive as if every move, every sound made a deep impression on his soul. She was so hard on the outside, but inside she was so soft, so gentle. She gave him hope, now he needed to be strong for her. He wished now that he could be more like his father. Yet again he wished he had the smooth confidence bordering on arrogance that had always characterized Kenneth Irons. He would be able to stand up and make things happen in a way that his usual techniques could not. The thoughts were making him restless and he was afraid he would wake Sara, that she would see the uncertainty in him that he was trying so hard to hide.  
  
Ian slipped slowly from beneath her and out of the bed. Sara stirred a little in her sleep and reached for him. He bent over and gave her a gentle kiss before putting on his robe and reaching to remove something from the nightstand and putting it in his pocket, moving slowly out the door. He went down the hall and up the stairs, stopping before the double doors that led to his father's rooms. He stood there gazing at the doors for some time. The rooms had been empty since his father's death; he had locked the doors himself not even allowing anyone inside to clean. Ian removed the key from his pocket and slowly unlocked the door, taking a deep breath and opening it.  
  
The sitting room was dark and stuffy, the smell of cold ashes mingling with the stale scent of his father's cologne. It was dark and he started to turn on the light, but changed his mind and knelt by the cold hearth and began to build a fire, remembering times past, when he had knelt in this same spot, listening to his father talk, or receiving orders, even taking his punishment on the rare occasions when such a thing was warranted. He knew Sara would not understand, not yet. They were too new to each other, even with lifetimes behind them. He held the fire starter, watching as the kindling caught slowly, mesmerized. It was one of the few times that the fire had ever been out. His father kept it burning all year long no matter what the weather. Irons was always cold. It had given the room the constant feel of winter, especially since he had never allowed the curtains opened, except at night. Sometimes in the dark he would open the drapes, even the windows and allow the night inside.  
  
Pictures flashed in his mind, his father's voice, words of comfort on a night when everything was a swirl of pain and confusion, the feel of his father's hand against his cheek, so very different from Sara's touch, the only other touch he knew. The room began to warm up and he rose slowly and sat down in the other chair, not quite ready to sit in his father's seat. It was not the first time he had sat here, he remembered the first time he had sat in this chair. He was six, and he had been told that he was too old to sit in his father's lap anymore. He was becoming a man and should carry himself as such. He was told of his responsibilities, to Irons, to his destiny, and it was the point that all the stories became true. He remembered other times here, standing in the corner being grilled on his lessons, on the will and the philosophies that guided his life. Sitting in this spot when he had been told he was being sent away to school, or to the military. Somehow his father always wanted him here during those major decisions, as if he wanted to have him close at those times. He knew that Irons had chosen it as his only way to show his love. Ian knew that many saw his father as cold, calculating even. The staff had never even completely understood, and they had known him longer than most. Kenneth Irons had expected his son to be what he could not, strong, emotionless, free of pain and guilt. He knew now that such was an impossible dream. How he could be everything that his father wanted when so much of it conflicted, dreams and desires merged from a long life filled with conflict.  
  
Ian looked at Iron's chair; he could almost see him there, glass in hand, talking, telling stories, giving him his lessons. The voice from memory was strong, even gentle at times.  
  
"What is it that you seek, my son?" He looked up startled. Kenneth Irons sat in his chair, a half smile on his face. 


	35. Part 6B

"Father?" he asked softly, afraid that his mind had finally snapped under the pressure of so much change. This could only be a hallucination.  
  
"Yes, Ian, I am here, is this not what you wished?"  
  
"Yes.No.I no longer know."  
  
"You are confused. Your new found love for Sara makes this a difficult transition for you."  
  
Not as difficult as without her, he thought. "Yes, Sir" he said, lowering his head from force of habit. He huddled in his robe wishing he could hide his rising shame. How could he have been so foolish, to come here like this? For a moment he buried his head in his chest, trying to sort out the whirlwind of rising feelings. He was no longer the man he had when his father died and he no longer knew how to act. But he had changed; he no longer lived at his father's whim. He drew himself up in his chair and raised his head to face his own personal demon. "I was unprepared father. You did not make this simple. You asked for something which you had no right to." His voice strengthened as he allowed some of the pain, the hurt to show through.  
  
"I asked for your loyalty. She killed me, is it not your duty to seek revenge?"  
  
"No, there can be no vengeance for suicide. You gave me two duties, to follow your orders and to protect her. You are dead, so I chose to protect her."  
  
"From loyalty to me, or love for her?" the shadowy figure asked.  
  
"Both, and love for the man you were. I have changed, father. I no longer live in your shadow. I walk in the light beside her, she accepts me and makes me stronger. You were wrong, emotional attachments strengthen you because they give you something worth living for. You never understood that."  
  
"You are wrong, my son. I did understand.once. But I had forgotten." Kenneth Irons' ghost looked at his son and for the first time in years Ian saw him truly smile. "I am proud of you Ian. You have done well, better perhaps than I had any right to hope for. Return to your lady, she needs you, and now you have the strength you need." Ian looked at his father, the father he had loved sitting there and a tear slid down his cheek.  
  
"Will you return?" he asked, unsure as to whether he really wanted an answer.  
  
"Perhaps, now go, this place is too much in the past, Sara is your future." Ian rose to leave pausing at the door to look back. His father's shadow was still sitting there by the fire as he had been in life. As he closed the door behind him he thought he heard the words that he had waited so many years to hear. "I love you, Ian." He stood in the hallway a moment, his back against the door, letting the tears flow. When they stopped, he returned to his room quietly, not wanting to wake Sara. He realized he had not locked the door and thought about turning back. No, he told himself, it is time. Ian removed his robe and slipped back into bed. She reached out instinctively and folded him into her arms and her sleep. As he drifted off he smiled, he knew now that no matter what happened he could handle it.  
  
Sara was dreaming, she knew that. It was strange the way she seemed to be following Ian as he had followed her. She watched from a distance as he built the fire in Irons' room, that could only be the place they were. He could not see her she was like a ghost, insubstantial. She looked around the room, it was old fashioned and kind of stuffy, the kind of thing you expect from someone's grandmother. She turned around, even wandered into the bedroom; after all it was only a dream. Sara saw a picture sitting on the nightstand, a picture of Irons and a very small child that could only be Ian. It struck her as odd; she never would have thought him capable of caring enough to keep a picture. She heard the sound of voices and moved back to the other room. Ian was sitting in one of the chairs head down, listening to someone that she could not see. She rushed over hearing Kenneth Irons' voice soft, persuasive even, talking to his son about revenge. She watched in horror as Ian huddled there like a child. She wanted to scream, to make him hear her, to understand that she was there, that Irons couldn't hurt him anymore. But Ian would not remain cowed, as she watched he stood up to his father, stood up for himself and for her, and Irons relented. The dream was getting more confusing by the minute. Irons was reassuring his son; this could not be the same man that had haunted her dreams, that had tried to kill her. She stood in shock, listening to the words but not comprehending. Finally she watched Ian rise and leave the room, hearing at last of his father's love. Sara wondered if the dream would end now and she would wake up next to him even more confused than before.  
  
"Sara, would you join me?" Irons said from his place by the fire. She jumped at the sound of his voice addressing her as thought he had known all along she was there. Sara moved forward, startled.  
  
"This is a dream, you can't be here, this can't be happening." She sat down in the chair Ian had vacated.  
  
"But it is, someday you will learn that things are not necessarily as they appear. You are in a dream, but you are also here." "Then why couldn't Ian see me?"  
  
"Because he was not meant to. He needed to be sure he was strong enough to do what you asked. In order to do that he had to face his fears, to face me, stand up to me, and justify his actions to himself. There is still much pain and guilt in him."  
  
"Yeah, whose fault is that? What are you trying to do to him now? Haven't you done enough?"  
  
"Enough, and more than enough. Sara, I know that all of this is hard for you to understand." He looked at the woman, so much like Elizabeth and yet not. She was hot blooded, hardheaded and temperamental. They were a good match, he admitted to himself. He could never have controlled her, never loved her like Elizabeth. "I do not expect you to understand my actions, nor do I feel the need to justify them to you. I wanted to protect him. I lost so much in my life. I never wanted him to experience that. I did not want to loose him, as I had lost everyone else I cared for. In the end, I lost everything, including my sanity."  
  
"And I should believe you now?" she asked sarcastically.  
  
"Does it matter? When you wake you will likely think that this was just a dream, you do not yet understand the difference between the temporal and the metaphysical. But yes, I want you to believe, for myself, for Ian. You love him, even though you are not ready to admit it. That is as it should be. But do not make the same mistakes that I have. I became so intent on my own desires, my own goals, that I forgot everything else. I was not a kind man, and you owe me nothing," There was a note of something in his voice that she could not quite place.  
  
"You're damn right about that," she told him angrily.  
  
"But I will ask a favor of you."  
  
"Why should I do anything for you?" she asked him hotly, staring to rise from the chair.  
  
"Because I can do no more to you? Because we both love him?"  
  
"Your brand of love I think he can do without. What do you want?"  
  
"Take care of him. You are all he has left." There was infinite sadness in the voice of this strange, cold man she had been so prepared to hate.  
  
"I would do that anyway, you know that," she told him finally, wondering why she was sitting in here in a dream saying things to Irons that a week ago she would have cut out her own tongue for even thinking about.  
  
"Then all that I have left is one thing. You will find some of what you need hidden in my private office. Ask Ian. He will show you. Regardless of what you may think of me, I do love him." Those last words ringing in her ears, she felt the room fade and she drifted deeper into sleep, folding herself tightly around Ian.  
  
Kenneth Irons continued to sit alone in his former room, watching the fire. He had done what he came to do and knew he should go but it was hard to move from this spot, this place and time. After a while he heard a voice call his name.  
  
"Kenneth, why are you still here?" she asked as she came over and placed a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Just thinking and remembering," he told her, his voice soft and a little sad.  
  
"The time for that is past, you know that. Come back with me. You have done what was necessary."  
  
"She could never be you." He looked up into the face of the woman at his side.  
  
"We are the same."  
  
"Yes, and no. the world changed. She is as you would have been, had you been born in this place and time. I never truly understood that. I expected it to be so simple, to recapture you. But the world had changed, she had changed and inside I had not."  
  
"It no longer matters, if you had succeeded, we would not now be together. You have been here long enough. Leave them to make their own way." Elizabeth Bronte held out a hand to him and he took it, kissing it softly before rising from his chair and putting an arm around her.  
  
"Yes, my love, I have stayed long enough." 


	36. Part 6C

Sara woke warm and safe, Ian's body curled protectively around. She shifted a little, being careful not to wake him up. She wanted a little time alone to process what had happened. She was still reeling from the dream, vision, whatever it was. She looked down at the Witchblade, the stone swirling lazily in the dark room. Ian was still asleep and she hoped he would stay that way while she tried to sort it all out. Okay, break it down, she thought, image by image. Ian confronting Irons, standing up to him, protecting their right to have a life together, his right to continue alone. This was all too confusing. She knew things were moving quickly, too quickly. She was afraid but she could not bring herself to step back. It was too important, she loved him. God, it was frightening. She wanted so much for this to work out, but could she face it, learn to let go of enough of herself? Viewed at a distance he was every mother's dream, rich, handsome, well mannered. Also dangerous, possibly mentally unstable and a deadly assassin of the first caliber, genetically modified, drug enhanced, over-amped, with moves that were occasionally to fast to see. And for all that he was kind, gentle and strangely innocent in some ways. But then considering the turn her life had taken, she wasn't too sure about her own mental state, so who was she to question?  
  
Irons was right, as much as it galled her to admit that the man was right about anything. She had to be careful to neither smother him nor push him too hard. The transition from a life with no control to a life of freedom was not easy, and having to put up with her personality quirks definitely guaranteed them an interesting relationship at best. Already he was starting to discover that. Once the announcement was made, life was going to get even more complicated for both of them. He would be thrust into a limelight that he neither desired nor understood and she had agreed to stand by him, even thought the prospect scared her as well. Great, the homicide cop and the billionaire, it was like something from a bad soap opera. But she had promised him and she did not back out of her promises, no matter what, she was not going to leave him without a fight.  
  
She reached out to caress him. Ian was so beautiful. It was odd, you never really expect a man to be beautiful, especially one so strong. He treated her like a goddess or a queen and that was hard to get used to. And he asked for nothing but to be near her. It was hard to accept that he wanted nothing but what she gave him. He was recovering though, learning to be his own man. One day she might regret wanting him to be more normal. Sara hoped that the two of them could manage to make it work. Ian moved a little, wrapping her more tightly in his arms as she snuggled closer. It was still early, she thought as she drifted back to sleep. There would be time later to worry about everything.  
  
Ian woke to Sara's presence like a diver coming up for air. Given a choice, he thought, I would never wake without her again. But perhaps this was something he should keep to himself. As new as everything was to him, Sara was still cautious about relationships. If he tried too hard, he ran the risk of scaring her away. He knew he had to take things one-step at a time; patience was a virtue which he had spent most of his life cultivating. If he could manage to keep patience with his father all those years, to believe in his destiny enough to keep going, then he could wait until she was ready. He turned to her and pressed her close to him. He watched as her eyes opened slowly to register him next to her. A smile spread over her face and she gave him a look that was more than enough to completely wake him up.  
  
"Morning, love," he whispered. The smile on his face and the look in his eyes was enough to convince her that it had been no dream. What she had seen had happened in some form or fashion. It was a subtle change, something about the way he looked at her, more assured, more confident. But now what? Should she say something to him? She thought about what Irons had said, about him needing to find his strength without her. She still didn't believe that she was taking advice from the man, but in this case he had a point. Neither of them needed that kind of dependency although Ian would give it to her if she asked it, at least he would have before. Now she was not sure, except that the thought had scared her, how close she had come to letting him give himself over to her. Now she was just confused. Perhaps later they could discuss it, much later. He was still looking at her, hand tracing her jaw, relishing his still novel ability to touch.  
  
"Ummmmh?" she murmured, still half asleep and not quite sure what to say. She ridded herself of all the questions in her mind for now, and just enjoyed the soft touch and warm presence next to her. She reached out herself, running her hands through his long curls, treasuring the feel of them against her hand. Something of his pleasure at simple touch seemed to have rubbed off on her. She loved touching him more than she had ever enjoyed the simple task before. She had told Irons the truth, she would take care of him just as he would take care of her, no matter what else happened. This was right.  
  
"You have slept well?" he asked, watching her soft smile and lazy caress.  
  
"Yes, I did," she told him, almost surprised, considering. "I wish we could just spend the day like this."  
  
"There will be many more mornings to do so," he promised. "As many as you like."  
  
"Yes, but not this one," Sara told him, regret tingeing her voice.  
  
"No, not this morning, but we have a little time." The passionate look in his dark eyes told her exactly what was on his mind.  
  
"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow questioningly. For a moment, his confidence was shaken just a little. He wondered if he had gotten his signals crossed, that she was not thinking what he was. The smile reassured him that she was teasing. It pleased him, this new ability to read her body language, her expression, without having to reach for her feelings.  
  
He drew a hand through her hair, pushing it back over her shoulder to give himself a better view of her face. His touch was light as he tried to focus on Sara, not the events of the morning or the challenge of the day ahead, only her.  
  
When the telephone rang some time later, they lay snuggled together enjoying those last few minutes before the day began. Sara rose reluctantly; she knew they needed to get started, as little as either of them wanted to. Ian answered, confirming the need for coffee and breakfast, while Sara slipped from the bed into a robe. Accepting the fact that there were people who knew your every move intellectually was one thing, but having them walk in on you was a real mood killer. She went into the bathroom, moving at a normal morning pace, unlike her desperate flight yesterday. Ian smiled lazily as he rose and pulled on his robe and grabbed a pair of drawstring pants from the drawer. He thought about beginning his kata, he had neglected to do so in the rush yesterday morning and in spite of the exercise he had done, he was feeling a bit remiss in his duties. In spite of all the changes he was going through, he still found that duty was such an ingrained part of his personality that he could not just wave it aside. The knock that heralded the arrival of their breakfast and Sara's life giving coffee made the whole thing moot for the moment and he moved to admit the housekeeper, wondering if Sara was yet again going to remain in the bathroom.  
  
Sara heard the knock at the door as she was finishing splashing a little water on her face, trying to wake up and refocus herself. Oh, well, she thought, another few minutes and she will be gone. The thought startled her a little; it was not like her to avoid situations, no matter how unpleasant. It was not as if they had been anything but nice and supportive of the two of them, no one had given her so much as a dirty look, if anything they all seemed to be going around pleased as punch about the change. So why was she still hiding here in the bathroom, knowing that it she was not fooling anyone but herself, and possibly embarrassing Ian? She certainly didn't want them to think that she was ashamed of her relationship with him. "Ok, then go out and face it, Pezzini," she told her reflection. With a deep breath she walked out of the bathroom to face her own fears. If Irons could accept her and Ian, encourage them even, then she could stop hiding in the bathroom every time one of the staff came around.  
  
Sara exited the bathroom just as Mrs. Hancock was setting down the tray. Ian gave her a questioning look, pleased and surprised that she had emerged. She just gave him a smile and walked over to get her first coffee of the day. She nodded a little to Mrs. Hancock, who gave her a brilliant smile.  
  
"Now, you have yourselves a proper breakfast or I will have to explain to Cook," she said quickly. It was just enough to let Sara know that she had passed some kind of test, that like the other two, Mrs. Hancock had warmed to her, at least a little bit. Sara returned the smile and sat down to enjoy the incredibly good coffee. Going back to drinking the swill that passed for coffee at the station was going to take a lot more effort than she really wanted to think about at this moment. The two of them sat and ate quietly. It's strange, Sara thought, the way we can just sit together comfortably without feeling the need to fill the silence with words. She had never known someone other than her partner who she could be that close to, that could understand when there was nothing that needed to be said. He just knew somehow. Maybe it was something in their connections, or something in their personalities that just made it work. They were so alike in so many ways; both had reason to fear relationships, emotional involvements, him from lack of experience, and her from an inability to let anyone get close, fear of the loss that came from letting people in. This was not going to be easy by any stretch of the imagination.  
  
Ian rose from the table and stretched like a cat, feeling the need to move a bit. Sara enjoyed the sight of him in nothing but the thin robe and some kind of drawstring pants. God, what a sight, she thought with frank appreciation. Her gaze made it hard to think straight but he needed to get back to his routine. The idea came to him and he gave her a wicked smile. "Oh, Sara."  
  
"Yes?" she questioned.  
  
"Perhaps you would care to join me?"  
  
"Doing what?" she asked, a little startled by his boldness. "We don't have huge amounts of time." He gave her the pleased smile of a contented cat as he realized the direction her mind had been taking.  
  
"I was referring to my morning Kata, you so enjoy watching, I thought you might like to participate."  
  
"But, I don't."  
  
"Come, I will show you," he said reaching for her hand to pull her out of the chair.  
  
"Give me a second, I can't exactly do it like this," she said, indicating her current state of dress. She had a pretty good idea that there was no way out of this so she grabbed her shorts and tee shirt as he slipped out of his robe and into a shirt of his own. It was kind of odd, this modesty; it was not like she had not seen him naked before. After the last couple of days she knew his body almost as well as she knew her own. She shrugged it off, probably another one of those things that he would need time for.  
  
She turned and faced him, watching as he moved into his first stance with the grace of a panther. She tried to copy his movement, managing it without him laughing at her at least. He watched and moved to correct her, placing gentle hands on her body to guide her. Deciding that this was a much more satisfactory method of teaching, he moved her through the remaining steps, guiding her with hands and voice. Sara was amazed at the flow as she felt one motion slide into another. She had never considered herself graceful. But when she gave in and relaxed to his guidance it felt like she was gliding, cutting through the air like a dolphin through water, sliding along lines she did not even know existed. As it came to an end she was almost sad. She felt relaxed, stretched and centered in a way that was new to her, almost as if their moves together had merged them into something new. She was pleasantly surprised. Danny had spent years trying to convince her to learn something like this, but she had never felt that she was capable, or if she were honest with herself, that it was necessary. Now Ian had shown her something special, a kind of intimacy that was no way sexual but at the same time brought them closer together. It was a little unnerving, but left her wanting more.  
  
"Wow," she said, trying to refocus herself on the world, the room and all the tasks of the day.  
  
"And now."  
  
"Yes?" she asked, wondering what else he could have in mind.  
  
"A shower," he told her, as he stepped away from her and headed into the bathroom, confident that she would follow. 


	37. Part 6 D

Sara finished dressing and wandered over to the chair with another cup of coffee and her hairbrush. She had left Ian finishing his shower alone. He was continuously surprising her, showing a playful side that she had been unaware of and was starting to enjoy. She sat and ran the brush reflexively through her hair, just trying to maintain her calm. The tension kept trying to creep back in, rising like bile from the pit of her stomach and she took a moment to push it back down. Panic would certainly do her no good, if anything it would make it harder. She continued to brush her hair, the soothing rhythm of the mundane task helping her to keep her thoughts in order. Ian emerged in his black slacks and a black dress shirt open at the collar, his hair still damp from the shower.  
  
"Ok?" she asked as she watched him go through his closet a little distractedly.  
  
"Yes," he responded vaguely, pulling out a soft looking sweater and holding it up for her approval. She looked it over and nodded. The soft grey against the stark black of his shirt would soften the harshness of his dress; make him look a little less forbidding. It was casual enough not to rouse suspicions without being disrespectful. His manner would take care of the rest, Sara was sure. He continued, moving around the room, gathering up things that he felt he would need. He removed his weapon and harness from the night table, but decided against it, returning it to its place. While he felt strange going into the city unarmed, it would probably be for the best. Taking a few minutes, he ran a quick mental checklist, making sure that he had everything he needed. It was almost easy to slip back into his old mindset, to see this as just another mission, but below the surface he knew better. He wished it were that easy. But to allow the cold to take over him again, to let his emotions slip behind a lifetime's worth of barriers would not make the situation better. It would only make Sara uncomfortable, and make it harder for him to adjust to the challenges that were continuously emerging. So easy, he thought, to go back, but to what? There was no one now to give him orders, to tell him what he needed to do. No one but Sara, and she refused. It was not what his father wanted anyway. It was his time, and today he earned the right. He gazed at Sara, sitting back in the chair, gazing into the fire. Her face had that determined look that he found so appealing. He moved over to stand beside her, just needing to be near her. It was almost time.  
  
"Ian." Sara looked up at him and smiled. "Come sit down, we have a few minutes." He checked his watch and sat down at her feet, wanting to be closer. Sara pulled him back against her. His hair was still damp, slicked back with an impatient hand. She reached out and ran her brush through his hair, smoothing it back with the other hand as she went. He stiffened, then leaned back into her hands, enjoying the feeling. That such a simple task could be made so relaxing, just because she was doing it, was fascinating.  
  
Sara responded to his obvious pleasure by continuing. "There, how does that feel?" she asked. Ian sighed pleasurably.  
  
"Wonderful," he told her.  
  
"Yes, it is one of the few things I remember about my mother, she used to brush my hair. I guess it's comforting. What about you? Didn't anyone ever do."she stopped, feeling him stiffen under her hands. The Witchblade warmed suddenly, almost burning her and she realized that she had stepped in it good. The snippet of a vision came back to her, Irons holding the baby Ian, the woman who was not to be mentioned. "Ian, are you ok? I didn't mean." She put down the hairbrush and laid her hand on his shoulder, feeling it shake just a bit.  
  
"I am.I will." he started. She pulled at him, trying to get him to turn around, to face her. There were tears in his dark eyes and he tried to hide his head. It was hard, he thought, these emotions. So long under control, he now seemed to be bursting with new feelings at the strangest moments. He tried to turn away, not let her see, but she would not allow it.  
  
"Ian, tell me," Sara asked softly. She knew that this wasn't the best time to have this particular conversation, but since she had started it, now she needed to fix it. "Come on, I need to know. I care about you; I need to know what is going on."  
  
"It is just that." he stopped, tried to get his thoughts into words. She put her hand under his chin, urging him to meet her eyes. "I do not know anything about her, about who she was." He stopped and Sara gave him a moment to get his thoughts together. "I just do not know who I am anymore. I have always known that I was my father's son, but with him gone, I.I just." he stopped again.  
  
"Ian, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up painful memories."  
  
"But that's the problem, Sara, I have no memories of her, I know nothing about her, not even her name."  
  
"Ian, look at me," she told him. He looked in her eyes, letting her see the pain and confusion that swirled in their depths. "I promise, when this is all over, I will help you find out. We'll do it together, understand me?" She pulled him into her arms, needing to reassure him almost as much as he needed her to. "You know who you are inside, that is all that matters for now, all that matters to me. We can work this out together, ok?" she asked, looking for reassurance in his eyes. Ian nodded, there was nothing he could do at the moment, and Sara's promise made him feel that he was strong enough to get through anything with her at his side. He leaned in, pressing his head against her shoulder, and letting the tears flow.  
  
Ian cast a last look around his room before closing the door behind him. They walked down the hall together, holding hands, each lost in their own thoughts. Sara squeezed his hand reassuringly as they reached the front hall. "So far, so good. I mean, the doctor has sent the stuff, right?" Wilson appeared suddenly with their coats and a briefcase in his hand, which he handed to Ian. Sara gave him a look. The expensive grey leather case made of some exotic animal skin seemed so at odds with his usual appearance that she had to resist the urge to laugh. Ian shrugged slightly.  
  
"It was my father's," he told her. "And it serves its purpose. I trust that everything I need is here?" he asked as he took the case. The stiff faced major domo merely looked at him. Ian smiled a little, knowing that Wilson would have it no other way. It would be against his military nature for anything to be less than well done.  
  
"Alright then, I think we are as ready as we are going to get," Sara said, accepting her coat from Wilson with a nod. "Everything went well yesterday. I mean Danny, Joe, Gabriel." Ian's eyes locked with hers in sudden realization. They turned to Wilson almost simultaneously, the question hanging clear in the air between them.  
  
"I believe Mr. Bowman is still in the south wing. Cook sent him coffee and breakfast this morning. A young man such as that brings out the urge to feed him up." They moved quickly through the house, having little time to spare. Even with the staff looking after him, they should check on him, it was only polite with all he was doing for them. Sara felt incredibly embarrassed, how could she have possibly forgotten him? Gabe was such a good friend, always willing to give her a hand, and now she just left him hanging.  
  
Gabriel had obviously made himself right at home; they could hear that for themselves. The music blared out at ear shattering volume long before they even entered the room he had set himself up in. They came in to find the young artifacts dealer ensconced in a chair with his back to the door, feet propped up on the antique table. His laptop was open and the remains of a large breakfast were sharing the table with it, the feet, and the coffee pot. He was wearing yesterday's clothes, now rumpled, giving evidence to the fact that he had probably been there all night.  
  
Ian walked in and placed a hand on Gabriel's shoulder. The young man, jumped, visibly startled as his feet hit the floor and he lost his grip on the cup in his hand. Both the cup and the chair started toward the floor as he tried to regain balance and equilibrium. Ian moved with his usual grace and speed, catching the cup before it hit the floor and steadying the younger man's chair, keeping it upright.  
  
Gabriel reached out and lowered the volume, looking at them with the slightly bemused expression of a sleepwalking owl. "Oh, uh, hey Chief, Ian, I.Uh," He looked at the two of them standing there, while trying to regain some of his composure. "You shouldn't sneak up on a guy like that, you could have given me a heart attack."  
  
"Yeah, well, there was no sneaking involved. If you don't want to be startled, you could try keeping the music down," Sara told him as she shook her head. "I was worried about how you were doing but you seem to have it all under control."  
  
"Yeah," he said returning to his seat. Ian gave his cup back to him and he took a sip, distractedly. He was obviously just paying enough attention to be polite, his eyes straying from the two of them to the computer screen in front of him. Gabriel was a bloodhound, enjoying his research, hunting down obscure facts and references like fugitives, and this was the biggest and best hunt yet. Sara smiled at him; it was obvious that not only did he not mind being forgotten, but he really wished they would go away and let him get back to work.  
  
"Well, you seem to be ok, so I guess we should leave you to it then."  
  
"Sounds good. I will let you guys know as soon as I find something useful."  
  
"We truly appreciate your efforts on our behalf, Gabriel. If you need anything Wilson will see to it. We will be staying in the city tonight."  
  
"Oh, sure," he said, having already returned his gaze to the screen. "See you later." He waved distractedly. As they left the room, they heard the music once again returned to his preferred ear shattering volume.  
  
"Somehow, I don't think he cares that we forgot about him," Sara commented on the way out.  
  
"Actually, I think he prefers it that way." 


	38. Part 6 E

Sara was fidgeting nervously from the moment they got into the car for the drive to One Police Plaza. She wished there was some other solution, something less invasive, les intrusive. Ian had only just begun to get a sense of who he was and now he was going to have to bare his secret to the world. At least he was dressed well, a sort of dress down dress to impress and he looked incredible, not a hair out of place. At moments like this she could see his upbringing, the way he reflected Irons in a sort of dark mirror image. He seemed to be handling the strain better than she was. The talk with his father seemed to have done him a lot of good, as reluctant as she still was to admit it, give the man credit for anything. She still didn't understand him, dead or alive nor did she care to. But his little appearance had calmed her a bit. She would at lest try to be more understanding of Ian's feelings for him.  
  
She watched him drive, gloved hands confident on the wheel, eyes on the road as they made their way through the quiet streets of Sunday morning New York.  
  
Ian focused on the road and tried to keep his mind on the task before him. Sara was nervous and he was having a little bit of difficulty blocking it out of his consciousness. He focused his mind on what he needed to do, the picture he wanted to present to those at the meeting. As always when faced with a situation he was unsure of his first thought was to fall back on familiar patterns, what would Irons do? How would he react to the situation? In this situation, he knew that his father's confidence and easy understanding of power and politics would be the keys to winning the day. He pulled his thoughts together, planning tactics as he drove, adding and discarding options like so much trash blowing along the side of the highway.  
  
They pulled up to a parking meter just down the street from the building and exited the car, Ian grabbing the brief case and taking her hand. "Are you ready?" he asked, his concern clear on his face.  
  
"Fine, and you?"  
  
"I shall be. We will get through this." He leaned forward, carefully checking the street and gave her a reassuring kiss. As he leaned back to feed the parking meter, she watched the carefully neutral mask descend, his face becoming a study in cold control. It chilled her and calmed her at the same time. Knowing that he could pull this off in her mind was one thing, but seeing the change take place before her eyes was completely different. They moved together into the quiet building.  
  
Ian and Sara moved through the almost deserted administrative offices on their way to their appointment with destiny. As they passed, they failed to notice a quiet figure sitting alone at a desk in the corner. They moved into the outer office, where Joe Siri was waiting for them. He ushered them quickly into the private sanctum of the Commissioner of Police.  
  
The young man picked up the phone and dialed a number, waiting impatiently for the party on the other end. "Yes?'  
  
"Sir, you wanted to know what Detective Pezzini was up to?"  
  
"Yes, do you have information for me?"  
  
"Yes, Sir, I was just catching up on some paperwork when I saw the detective going to the commissioner's office with Captain Siri of the one- one and another man I didn't recognize."  
  
"Describe the other man. Was he tall with white hair?"  
  
"No, Sir. This guy was tall, but he had long, dark hair and a beard. He was dressed mostly in black and carrying a briefcase."  
  
"Nottingham. Damn. Do you have any idea what this meeting is supposed to be about?"  
  
"No, there hasn't been a memo. The Commissioner and his deputy came in about half an hour ago and closed the door behind them."  
  
"All right, stay where you are and let me know when they leave and whatever you can overhear. This situation is getting complicated. If Irons thinks that he is going to jam me up, then he better think again."  
  
Sara and Ian walked into the outer office where Joe Siri awaited them. "Thanks for coming Joe, this is not going to be easy," she told him.  
  
"No it's not, but you are a good cop with a good rep, I am sure you can get through this. Besides, Marie is waiting for you for dinner, if you don't get through this with a whole skin, I am the one who's going to have to explain it to her." His joking was reassuring; it was nice to know that he at least was not looking at her any differently.  
  
"We do appreciate everything you have done for us, Sir," Ian added. "We will make every effort to comply with your wife's wishes." They laughed a little, lightening the tension, and putting off for a brief moment the task that lay in front of them.  
  
"The Commissioner is in there already, so is his deputy, Bram Harvey. I don't think you have met him, Sara, but Commissioner O'Connor was in the academy with your dad and me. He's a good guy, will give you a fair hearing. Ready?"  
  
"As ready as I'm getting," Sara said, a little edgy. Ian merely nodded and squeezed her hand reassuringly before letting go. It would not do for them to walk in holding hands.  
  
Joe knocked on the door, opening it as soon as he heard the request. The office was large, the commissioner sitting at his desk on one side, with the deputy standing beside him. Liam O'Connor was a big man about Joe's age, with a head full of fading red hair and the look of a stereotypical Irish police officer from an old movie. Sara ran through what she knew of the man, he was a cop's cop, worked his way up the ranks, discovering along the way that he had a real head for administration and a love for the job and those doing it. He was not politically naïve, although he preferred to do things in the open and was not necessarily the most patient man in the world. He would go to the wall defending his people, but was just as fast to turn on someone at the hint of wrongdoing. He wasn't a crusader, not really, just a man who wanted to get the job done and done right, and set out to do it the only way he knew how. Bram Harvey was an unknown to Sara; she had seen his face before but could not have put a name to it. He had a bit of the look of a politician, which made her twitchy, but so far the Witchblade had been silent, no hints of danger, so she put it down to her own natural distrust.  
  
The two men moved to greet them and usher them towards the conference table and chairs that took up the other half of the large office.  
  
"Commissioner O'Connor, Detective Pezzini," Joe started. The Commissioner reached out and shook her hand with a bit of a smile.  
  
"Of course, we have met before, but it has been a while. I knew your father. good man, good cop."  
  
"I try to live up to his example, Sir," she said a little uncomfortably. It was bad enough they had to do this, but bringing up her Dad somehow made her feel just a little worse. She said a silent prayer that wherever he was, he would understand.  
  
"From what I have seen of your record, he would have been proud."  
  
"Thank you." Please let us get on with this, she thought to herself, trying to calm down. The absolute last thing she needed right now was to blow everything by looking guilty.  
  
"And this is Ian Nottingham," Joe continued smoothly. He knew Sara well enough to know that the sooner they got it over with the better it would be for her.  
  
"Mr. Nottingham, I know who you are, although I don't believe we have ever been introduced. You work for Ken Irons, head of Security, if I am not mistaken."  
  
"You have a remarkable memory, Sir. Yes, among my other duties," he acknowledged, taking the older man's hand. Deputy Harvey stood back a little and observed the group dynamic before coming forward to make his own greetings.  
  
"Ok, now let's get down to business," he said, gesturing them to take seats as he pulled out his chair at the head of the table. Ian held out a chair for Sara before seating himself next to her on O'Connor's left side. Deputy Harvey and Joe placed themselves on the other side of the table. "Joe told me that you have gotten something important on the Vorschlag case. I assume that is why you are here, Mr. Nottingham, to protect the company's interest in this?"  
  
"Among other things, Sir. I also have information and documents that will be vital in getting this situation settled," Ian answered calmly, taking his cue from years of watching his father work.  
  
"And just what are." Harvey started, but the Commissioner cut him off.  
  
"Just a minute, Bram, let them say what they have to say before you start the questions, ok?" The deputy nodded. Obviously this was part of their usual custom, everything said as if it had become a routine.  
  
"Detective, do you have a suspect yet?"  
  
"Yes Sir, I do."  
  
"Then who is it, and why is he not in custody yet?" he asked sharply. She could see his features hardening before her eyes, the genial man transforming into hard-nosed investigator before her very eyes. She took a deep breath and squeezed Ian's hand under the table. Here we go.  
  
"Kenneth Irons, Sir," she said, as calmly as she could muster. O'Connor's eyes widened and Deputy Harvey was gaping like a carp.  
  
"You have proof of this?" he asked as he tried to regain control of his features.  
  
"Yes, I do," she told him, still keeping her face completely neutral. She is doing well, Ian thought proudly. His confidence was starting to take a few cautious steps out of hiding.  
  
"Then why is he not in custody? I have not heard anything from the DA's office about an arrest warrant or search warrants?"  
  
"No sir, this is where it gets a little complicated."  
  
"Complicated?" Harvey burst out, unable to contain himself any longer. "Complicated? You just said that one of the richest men in the city, hell in the world murdered two of his employees and you have the proof and it's complicated?" His face had gone from dead pale to heart attack red in the blink of an eye and Sara was starting to wonder if the day was not going to have another casualty before it was over. The commissioner waved him down again, although he was still looking a little pole axed himself.  
  
"Ok, Detective, please explain this complication. Regardless of who he is, Mr. Irons is not getting away with murder in my city. Give me a good reason not to call the DA and have him draft an arrest warrant right now."  
  
"It would not do him any good sir."  
  
"I hope you are not telling me he has fled the jurisdiction?"  
  
"In a manner of speaking sir," she said, her voice flat and calm. "Kenneth Irons is dead."  
  
The room went dead silent, a brief shocked calm before the storm that they both knew would follow. Before the reality set in. Sara was sure of one thing, that there was no other way to do it. There was no way that she could have said it that would not have had exactly this result. She looked at the surprised faces, the blank expressions, as their minds tried to take in the reality, the ramifications of that one statement.  
  
"What the."  
  
"Holy sh." Speech was starting to return, brains processing, turning over again. She sat still with Ian by her side, their hands linked together as they waited for the fallout to begin. Commissioner O'Connor started to speak but then stopped again, looking thoughtful and obviously trying to get his feelings into a better order. He had know Kenneth Irons, at least socially, the shock all the greater for it. Harvey was obviously seeing the politics of the situation; he kept opening his mouth and then closing it, shaking his head. He looked for all the world like some kind of over excited carp with his red face, bulging eyes, and gapping mouth.  
  
she thought to Ian a little irreverently, her stress level long past overload, only able to look at the situation through cynical eyes at this point.  
  
I He responded clinically.  
  
The Commissioner finally regained control of himself and waved his deputy back into his chair. "Frankly this is all a little hard to take in. It is hard enough to believe that Kenneth Irons went off the deep end and killed two of his own employees. He is known to be a ruthless man, but he is far from stupid, and the coincidence of his death."  
  
"Perhaps we had best explain further?" Ian responded mildly. It was time to take control, he knew that and the best way to do that was to push forward.  
  
"Perhaps you had better," O'Connor said a little more calmly.  
  
"And while you are at it, maybe you could explain your presence here, in light of what we have heard, I would like to know how a body guard knows so much about Irons' affairs, and can stand here and represent those interests to us." Harvey put his two cents in belligerently. Obviously he had spent to much time playing the bad cop to his boss's good cop.  
  
"Because I was not just Mr. Irons' bodyguard, or even just his head of security?" Ian said raising an eyebrow in a gesture so reminiscent of Irons that the other man immediately backed down a bit and waited. "I was, and in fact still am, Kenneth Irons' son."  
  
The second bombshell was calmer in its way, probably because there was no more energy for shock and surprise. Sara gave Joe an apologetic look and the expression on his face told her that she was going to have some serious explaining to do to him later. Harvey looked suspicious and started to say something but was waved down tiredly by his boss. The shock had been replaced with look of incredible weariness.  
  
"There were rumors.I assume that you have some kind of proof?" O'Connor asked. Ian nodded and pulled out his brief case. He found the file he wanted in the interior and handed it to the older man. The commissioner took it and found a copy of the paternity test results that Immo had run for Irons years ago against this very possibility. Ian smiled a little, his father had never been known to leave anything to chance, even this.  
  
"I am afraid that there is no birth certificate at the moment, but in addition to the blood test results you will find the doctor's copy of his records as well as depositions from him and several others present at the time."  
  
"And your birth certificate?" he asked, although he did not really see the need for it. There was more than enough evidence in the file. He knew it was the truth from the moment the words were out, something about his moves, his mannerisms that was reminiscent of Irons in a way that could not be faked.  
  
"I believe that my father paid to have it removed from the state records office, he was incredible cautious about personal information. There is supposed to be a copy in the house but I am afraid that I have not had time to make a thorough search." The commissioner nodded but Harvey was obviously having trouble accepting it.  
  
"Sir, we can't just take the word of any guy off the street, those paper could be forged. I suggest."  
  
"Enough Bram. I knew the man, believe me when I tell you that I have no doubts that Mr. Nottingham is telling the truth. But that still doesn't explain the rest of it."  
  
"Would you allow me to continue then?" Ian asked, a touch more softly than before. The commissioner nodded. Taking a deep breath, Ian began.  
  
"You asked why someone like my father would suddenly kill two of his employees in a rage? I am afraid that it is not that simple. In the last few days before the incident, I was not in the house often. If I had been, perhaps things would have turned out differently."  
  
"May I ask why?" The question from the commissioner was almost gentle, respect for a man who had just lost his father.  
  
"We had a disagreement. He found my.devotion for a certain member of the police force inappropriate," he said almost questioningly, as if he were searching for the right word.  
  
"Something to hide?" Harvey broke in, still trying to figure out how to play this. The revelations of the day had left him confused. He had never handled a situation so potentially explosive and he was still trying to get his bearings. Ian turned cold eyes onto the man, his face gone completely still.  
  
"Doesn't everyone?" he questioned sharply. "Certainly no more than you do yourself, Deputy Harvey." Ian held his eyes until the other man looked away. "Kenneth Irons was a hard man in many ways. He was not kind. He felt such personal concerns would distract me from my duty to him. He was perhaps right," he acknowledged. "We disagreed and I felt it best to spend some time, sort a few things out for myself."  
  
"So you were not present the night of the meeting?"  
  
"I have already said as much to Detective Woo," he responded calmly.  
  
"Yes, and we should trust what you say to your girlfriend's partner? I am still a little confused as to why Detective Pezzini was given the case in the first place, and why she did not have herself removed," Harvey said, sweeping his gaze to include both Sara and Joe.  
  
"Detective Pezzini has a spotless record and." Joe started as Sara's temper began to rise. She started to open her mouth but the commissioner interfered.  
  
"I would like to hear this as well, Detective."  
  
"Sir, Irons' security was incredibly tight, and Vorschlag is kind of like a closed system. I figured that I had an advantage that another investigator would not have. At the time, neither of us knew that Irons' was actually involved himself. We were looking for something that happened after the meeting, who knew it happened during?"  
  
"During the meeting?" the attention of all parties was suddenly focused on Sara.  
  
"Detective, is there anything else that you need to tell us that is going to involve a sudden shock? I would like to know whether to have a doctor on stand by?" the commissioner said. There was a sarcastic edge to his voice, and Ian knew they had pushed things about as far as they could. It was time to finish this quickly, before they lost their advantage.  
  
"She is correct, I have statements here," Ian said, as he reached once again into his briefcase. "From the other attendees at the meeting." He passed the papers over to the commissioner before continuing. It was time to take control. "When I returned to the house, he was acting oddly, out of control, he then collapsed. His personal physician was called but he did not regain consciousness. Doctor Immo ran tests but," Ian shook his head, lowering his eyes briefly, as if to keep control. "He found an undiscovered cerebral anomaly, something that must have happened after his last physical. Immo tried to treat him but I am afraid it was ineffective."  
  
"And you have evidence of all of this?" Harvey asked. This was turning into a nightmare; there was no way that this would turn out well. The political and economic ramifications alone were enough to make for some serious headaches. Ian nodded and pulled out several files.  
  
"Here are my father's medical records, both before and after the.incident. Also his death certificate signed by Dr. Immo, and the doctor's explanation of the condition in layman's terms." He turned the papers over to the commissioner.  
  
"And he never recovered consciousness?"  
  
"He only spoke to me once after that," Ian said honestly. "I was distracted, I only found out about the connection to the murders while I was trying to handle the reorganization, it appears that the directors were a little.reluctant to talk to me about it." "Then how did the bodies get out of the house? And what happened to the murder weapon?" Harvey asked, still trying to sort it all out.  
  
"I have initiated an internal investigation, I can only imagine that the weapon involved was an artifact from my father's collection which is at present unaccounted for." Ian was holding up well, answering the questions calmly, as if he were just discussing the weather. After all the practice and all the stress, Sara was amazed. She felt like the weak link here. Ian had insisted that he be the one to give them any information that would involve lying. He did not want her put her in any worse position than necessary. They continued to wrangle, looking through the evidence and trying to make the situation into anything but a nightmare. After over an hour of talking they were all wrung out and on edge.  
  
"The only thing to do is close the case," the commissioner said finally. "It would be in the best interest of all of us if the media did not get their hands on this." Ian met his eyes and nodded.  
  
"Yes, sir, the political ramifications, not to mention the economic problems if something happens." Harvey started, before realizing that he was only running over old ground again. "But what about the media attention already focused on the case? I mean it can't just go away, Merano has already made a fuss over it."  
  
"Might I make a suggestion?" Ian said with a cold smile. The thought of revenge on the man who had made this all possible was too much to resist. All eyes turned to him. Sara gave him a confused look. This was not part of the plan, what was he thinking? "Perhaps we could replace it in the news, information of a long term investigation in the commissioners office regarding information pedaling by a member of staff? A news conference perhaps, complete with an indictment?" The simple brilliance of the plan struck all in the room as the commissioner began to laugh. 


	39. Part 6F

The Commissioner walked them to the door, with Harvey bringing up the rear. It had gone well, better than expected, and Sara was so relieved that she was amazed she could stand upright on water-weak knees. They shook hands, almost as if it had been a simple business meeting, instead of one of the biggest events in the history of the city. But just as Sara was feeling her own relief, Ian was beginning to tense. "Mr. Nottingham, you will be here tomorrow afternoon then, to finish this?"  
  
"Of course," he said, absently, "I will have my assistant call you about the time." Already his thoughts were turning with dread to the next big task, and the one even more important in his mind, making a good impression on Sara's foster family. After the information of the day, he would be surprised if Joe Siri did not want to have him throttled for getting Sara involved.  
  
They said their goodbyes, and Joe walked with them to the elevator, waiting for it to close behind them before he said anything. "Sara, how could you not tell me?" he started, torn between anger and amazement. He had had some time to run over things in his mind and now he was not sure whether to thank them for trying to leave him as far out of it as possible, or scream for being left out in the cold.  
  
"Sir, please do not blame Sara, it was my fault. I wanted to wait, to tell the story only once. Also we did not want to put your career in jeopardy if it was believed you had withheld information. If you wish to withdraw your invitation I will understand." The words were quiet, his eyes down cast. While he was nervous about the event, he wanted more than anything to be accepted by Sara's family.  
  
"No," Joe said, the young man's look completely disarming him. "You did what you thought was best, tried to protect everyone. I can't blame you for that."  
  
"Joe, I." Sara started to break in, but he stopped her. She should not have to protect him, that was his job. He started to speak, but the words never got out.  
  
"It's ok, I understand," Joe said, and from the look on his face, Ian believed him. It was a surprise, yes, this acceptance, but somehow he had been granted a second chance, a chance to prove himself to Sara's family.  
  
Joe turned to Sara, giving her a stern look. "But if you ever go out on a ledge like this without letting me in I will have your badge detective. Do you understand me?" The harsh edge in his voice was apparent, but so was the love, the understanding.  
  
Was this how it was supposed to be? Ian asked himself.  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"And as for you, Ian," he said sternly. "If I show up at home without you and with some lame excuse, my wife will never forgive me, so I suggest that the two of you get your car and meet me at home."  
  
The departures left the office empty. In the corner, still unnoticed, the lone figure pulled out his phone again. "Sir, I have some more information."  
  
"Well? Spit it out, I don't have all day."  
  
"The guy I didn't recognize is definitely someone called Nottingham, just as you suspected."  
  
"Yes, and? Were you able to overhear anything?"  
  
"Not much Sir, but I did find out that Nottingham and the Commissioner are meeting together again tomorrow. He is supposed to call and make an appointment."  
  
"Tomorrow, huh? Well we will see. If Irons won't come out willingly, then maybe we can draw him out."  
  
Ian and Sara drove through the streets toward their meeting with Joe and Marie. After the stress of the meeting, Sara was rambling along, telling him about Joe, Marie and their son and daughter in law. "I suppose that they will be there too, along with their little girl, Anna."  
  
"Little girl?" Ian said with a note of rising panic in his voice.  
  
"Yes, little girl, Joe's granddaughter. She just turned four last month and she's a sweet kid. What's the matter, Ian?" she asked, a little concerned. Here was a man who went through Special Forces training, who just went through the third degree with the police commissioner and came out unscathed, and he was worried about a little kid?  
  
Ian tried to find a way to explain it to her, the panic he felt about facing dinner with her entire family, or what amounted to the same thing. He had never been exposed to anything like this. When he was in the military, he and Mobius had once had dinner with Jeff Black's parents.. He pushed the thought away, it was not something he wanted or needed to think about right now. "Sara, I have never been to a family dinner of any kind. With only the two of us, it is hard to even imagine such a thing, and my father's family were all long dead before my birth. I do not wish to do anything to embarrass you." He cast a quick glance over to her and she could see the worry in his eyes. The meeting was at least something that was in the realm of his experience. He had watched his father conduct many meetings, some much more vicious than that little squabble, but a family dinner was beyond him.  
  
"Ian, all you have to do is be polite, eat a lot, which I don't see as a problem, and answer a lot of invasive personal questions," Sara told him calmly. Ian looked at her in complete and unadulterated horror.  
  
"Questions?" he said, his voice gone sharp with terror.  
  
"I'll help you get through, try to field as much of it as I can. But it is part of having a family."  
  
"I do not have a family, not any more," he said, a little sadly.  
  
"Of course you do, you have me. A part of having a family is doing things you'd rather not do."  
  
"That, at least I am familiar with," Ian said, a smile just starting to reappear. "Now, one stop and I believe that I shall be prepared to brave the onslaught."  
  
"Ian, we are still not going into battle."  
  
"So you keep telling me. You have your metaphors, I have mine." Sara rolled her eyes at him and squeezed his arm a little for reassurance.  
  
After making a stop, Sara's directions took them to the Siri's house with a minimum of time and effort. Much sooner than Ian was truly prepared for, the two of them were standing before the front door. "Are you ready?" Sara asked, resting a hand on his arm. Ian held his parcels a little tighter and nodded. She reached up and gave him a gentle kiss before turning to ring the doorbell. They heard the soft echo inside the house and in moments the door flew open to reveal Joe, standing there, ushering them in with a friendly wave of his hand.  
  
"Come in, come in, Marie is in the kitchen," he said. Ian handed him the bottle of wine he had picked up on the way, but held onto the flowers. It would be proper to give them to the lady of the house. The two of them took off their coats and handed them to Joe as he lead them through into the living room. "Have a seat, my son and his wife will be here soon with my granddaughter, but let me go and get Marie." He hurried off through the other door, as they settled down onto the couch. The room was not terribly large, but filled with well-worn furniture and lots of family photographs. It was a cozy room, Ian decided, designed not to impress but to make guests feel at home. He leaned back a little on the couch, trying to relax. Sara sat next to him, the back of her hand just brushing his knee, letting him know she was right there. Ian still held the flowers in his arm, as if they were some kind of shield against the coming conflict.  
  
Sara looked at him, not as dressed up as he had been the night he fell into her life, but the similarities were there, the nervous look, the flowers, the stiff posture. Had it only been a little more than a week? Part of her was concerned that it was moving too fast, but another part was so glad to have him, to be able to feel again without fear, that in itself was a little frightening, and a little amusing. She had never felt so comfortable with someone, had someone that she really felt that she could trust. It was almost funny in its own way. she thought, her tone amused in his mind.  
  
I he replied earnestly, wishing he could join in her amusement, trying to relax, to accept that it was going to be alright. his sense of humor trying to break free from the bonds of fear.  
  
They both looked up at the sound of the door opening. Ian stood immediately, his manners always impeccable, as his father had required. Joe entered, preceding his wife into the room. Marie was on the short side, a friendly looking woman with neat reddish hair and an apron tied over her floral print dress. She moved quickly to Sara, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the check before turning to Ian. "So you are Sara's new young man?" she asked, looking him over. Ian offered her the flowers and took her hand, kissing it formally.  
  
"Yes, Ma'am, I suppose I am. It is good to meet her family, she has told me a great deal about you." Marie blushed at the kiss and the compliments.  
  
"Oh, you are a charmer, Mr. Nottingham," she said with a smile.  
  
"Ian, please ma'am," he said gravely.  
  
"Then you must call me Marie, and please, sit down. There is no need for you to stand around like this. I need to put these in water. Can I get you something to drink?" she inquired.  
  
"A glass of water would be fine, Ma'.Marie," he said with a shy smile.  
  
"Not at all, Joe?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"Good, Sara, will you?"  
  
"Yes, why don't I help you?" she said as she got off the couch, giving him a last smile before the two women disappeared into the kitchen. 


	40. Part 6G

"So, Ian,"  
  
"Yes, sir?" he answered, his naturally formal nature reasserting itself. "I am sorry. Joe."  
  
"That's better. You aren't used to this kind of thing are you?" Joe asked kindly.  
  
"No, I am not. I do not wish to give offense, but I am unaccustomed to informal social gatherings."  
  
"It's ok. Do you mind if I ask a question?"  
  
"No, I will try to give you an honest answer," he said, a little cautiously.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me that Irons was your father last night?" The question was simple, asked without anger or accusation. Ian looked at him and tried to formulate an answer, to explain as well as he could.  
  
"We did not do it to give offense," he started.  
  
"None taken, but that still doesn't answer the question." Ian sighed a little.  
  
"I learned caution at the hands of my father. He was a very careful man. When Sara said that we had to tell you, to trust you, I admit I was hesitant. You have to understand, save Sara and a few others, employees who have been around since before my birth, this is a secret that has been shared with no one. Until today. After so long, it is still hard for me to say it openly." He stopped, trying to decide how to proceed. This was not the kind of conversation he was accustomed to having. "It is not as if my father ever denied it. He was not ashamed of our relationship. He just felt it would be too easy for it to be used against him."  
  
"At least you're honest," Joe said quietly, taking in the words. "I don't pretend to understand this myself, I'm just a cop, and your life has pretty much been the other end of the spectrum." Ian started to respond, but Joe interrupted him. "Let me finish now, I want to get this said before they get back. Sara is a good girl, a good cop, but she has been through an awful lot of grief in her life. If you care for her as much as I think you do, then I wish you all the best. She's not good at letting people in and you seem to have gotten around that. I learned long ago to trust my instincts and they tell me that you will be good for her, but if I am wrong."  
  
"Sir.Joe, I would rather die myself than see her hurt." The words were soft spoken and while they may have sounded a bit dramatic, when he looked into Ian's eyes, he could see that they were sincere. He nodded.  
  
"Now then, tell me what it's like handling security for a company as large as Vorschlag? Do you actually get out in the field much? You don't strike me as the paper pushing kind." Joe turned the subject neatly. He had his answers and while there was still a lot he wanted to know about the young man, he didn't want to push him too hard. Marie will get on to interrogating him soon enough, let him relax a little, he thought. It can't have been an easy life he's led, living in the shadow of that man.  
  
The two women went in to the warm kitchen, bright with the home smells of familiar foods. She knew what was coming, the questions, the conclusions, the insinuations of things that she had no answers to give. It had been a long time since she had brought anyone home to meet them, years in fact. The closest she usually came was having Joe meet one of her boyfriends as he picked her up at work, but that happened very rarely. Sara loved the two of them, they were the only family she had, but she was a private person, and no one had been close enough for her to bring them around. Marie busied herself stirring and checking while Sara got a glass of water for Ian and a coke for herself.  
  
"So Sara, this is your new boyfriend?" Marie asked, her back to her, still busy at the stove. "Where did you meet him?"  
  
"Ah, we met at the Midtown Museum. He was connected to a case," she told her. It was the truth, if not the whole truth.  
  
"Oh? And how long have you known him? You never said anything to Joe. The first I heard of it was last night." There was a mild accusation in her tone and Sara squirmed a little internally.  
  
"Just over a month. I'm sorry I haven't called; I've just been really busy. I had an important case going."  
  
"That important case that you got Joe out for last night and again today? Yes, I thought so. But that is all finished now, right?"  
  
"I suppose so," she said. As much as she loved Marie, she really was not looking forward to this. She hated the questions, the probing, even though it was well meant. It was better than having her ask Ian though. He was scared enough as it was, she would do anything she could to make the experience easier for him. "Listen, Marie, Ian and I are still trying to work things out, and he really doesn't have any family. This is all kind of new for him, can you go easy?" Sara knew that what she was asking was impossible. There was no way that Marie could help asking questions any more than she could fly, but maybe she would at least take it a little easier.  
  
"No family? Poor boy, what happened?"  
  
"His father passed away recently, and his mother died a while ago, before he was old enough to remember her. He doesn't really know anything about her. It's kind of a tender subject," she told her. She hoped it sufficed; she really didn't want Ian to have to explain his home life twice in one day.  
  
"Poor boy, what about his grandparents?"  
  
"I think they've been dead even longer than that. We haven't talked about it much," she said, brushing away the subject negligently, as if it were unimportant instead of simply too weird for words.  
  
"You get those drinks, we've left them alone long enough," Marie said as she bustled around with a few last minute preparations. Sara grabbed her and Ian's drinks and hoped that everything was all right. She reached out a little and felt the reassuring brush of his mind. He seemed calmer; there was a less frantic quality in that brief contact. She took the glasses and followed Marie in to join them.  
  
As the women reentered the room, Ian stood respectfully, taking the glass from Sara and waiting for her to take her seat on the couch before joining her. "You are going to spoil me," Marie said, amused. "It has been a long time since Joe remembered his manners around me. He thinks that since we're married, he can just treat me like an old sack." There was a fondness in her voice that made Ian smile; the camaraderie of their long relationship was reassuring. Perhaps some day. he thought, looking at Sara. She smiled back. She understood how reassuring it was, to see two people who had been married for so long, still so much in love.  
  
"You are not an old sack, I'm just too old to get up every time. It's not manners, it's old age," Joe responded, patting her on the arm as she laughed at him a little.  
  
"Now Ian, I am sure that you have been warned that I'm an incredible busybody." Joe and Sara both started to say something but she waved them down. "It's true, but I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. So if I get too personal you just tell me, understand?"  
  
"I do. I am sure that you wish to reassure yourself that I am not doing Sara any harm."  
  
"Something like that. So tell me, what do you do for a living? Sara really hasn't told me much about you," she said. She sounded perhaps a touch miffed, but it was quickly covered.  
  
"I work for Vorschlag Industries, until recently my title was Head of security."  
  
"Oh, and what do you do now?" she asked. The room went quiet as Sara and Joe both looked at Ian. This was not exactly a question any of them were expecting. The sound of the outer door opening broke the silence with a bang.  
  
"Hello, anyone home?"  
  
Joe Jr., called Joey, came through the door with his giggling daughter clutched in his arms. His wife Robin followed along carrying a bag of toys. They came into the living room and Joe made the introductions as Sara and Marie greeted and gave hugs around. Ian shook hands with Joey, noting that he was a younger version of his father. Robin was a petite woman with red-brown hair and friendly blue eyes. He kissed her hand as he had done with Marie, and turned to try to figure out how to greet the small child, now attached to Sara like some strange red headed monkey, climbing into her arms for a greeting. He wondered if he too would be required to lift the child in order to greet her.  
  
Sara smiled as she put Anna down and exchanged the expected pleasantries. The little girl looked up at Ian in awe and tugged at Sara's hand. "It's ok," she told her reassuringly. "Anna, this is Ian."  
  
"Hello Ian, you're tall," she said, much to the amusement of everyone there. Even Ian smiled, leaning gravely down and offering her his hand.  
  
"Yes, I am, little one," he said, trying desperately to figure out what to say to her. She lifted her arms up to him and Ian froze for just a moment. Sara saw the look and started to say something, but Ian shook his head and very carefully reached out for the little girl. Anna swarmed up into his arms with a bright smile on her face.  
  
"Now, I am taller than anyone," she said proudly, as Ian held her up in his arms. It was a strange sensation, terrifying and sweet at the same time.  
  
"Sit, sit," Joe said, waving everyone down to seats. Ian and Sara sat, with Anna climbing between them enjoying the comfort of her Aunt Sara and her new friend Ian. He was still terrified, but it was kind of nice to sit close to Sara with the warm little bundle between them. It made him wonder more than ever what it would have been like to grow up in a normal family. Anna was so confident, so certain and positive of her reception. How odd, he thought, to be so free. Even when he was little he had been cautious, the only one he had ever been really close to was his father, and he did not encourage spontaneous gestures of affection like that. This kind of familiarity would have displeased him.  
  
The talk was general; Joey's cases at Brooklyn South, where he was a detective in the Narcotics division, Robin's work as an elementary school teacher, Anna's day school antics, the normal routine of a family. Ian found it all fascinating. He just sat back and listened as it all swirled around him, his hand resting lightly on Sara's back.  
  
"You just talk," Marie said. "Dinner will be on the table in a moment. Robin, will you set the table for us?" Sara started to rise but she waved her back. "No, you stay with your friend," she said kindly. Sara agreed instantly. At least Ian was safe from questioning for now.  
  
Anna immediately jumped up from her place between Ian and Sara. "I want to help, I want to help."  
  
"All right, dear, you help you mother," she told her granddaughter. Give the poor boy a rest; I don't think he has spent much time with children, she added to herself.  
  
"So, Ian, how did you get hooked up with Sara?" Joey said. There was a comfortable familiarity in his tone, enough to reassure Ian that he meant no harm. He had expected personal questions, but it was hard for him to relax into the atmosphere.  
  
"We met at the Midtown Museum," he said.  
  
"Before or after she blew the place up?" Joey said with a chuckle. Ian smiled, recognizing it for the teasing that it was. It reminded him a little of his days in the military, the way Green would tease him about his shyness.  
  
"Just because you have never done anything that spectacular." Sara started in, a friendly fire in her eyes. She didn't want there to be any questions on that subject, not if they had to answer them. The two of them engaged in a battle of one-upmanship that he could see was a long running game. Joe smiled at Ian, and he returned it, settling back to watch the two of them wrangle and bicker until Marie called them all for dinner. 


	41. Part 6H

They rose and Ian offered Sara his arm. "Ian, you will sit next to me," Marie said with a smile as they walked toward the dining room. It was a small room, cozy and almost completely taken up by the large rectangular table. Ian looked at Sara desperately, wondering how to avoid the questions that he knew would follow.  
  
"I want to sit with Ian," Anna said as they started to settle in to their usual places. She had obviously taken to him, although Ian could not for the life of him understand why. He cautiously patted the little girl on the head, looking to Sara for help.  
  
"I don't know," Robin began, not wanting her daughter to make a nuisance of herself to Sara's new friend. Sara wracked her brain for a solution, some way to protect him from Marie's good intentions. Anna was still begging her mother to let her sit with them, but Robin was not giving way.  
  
"Robin," Sara said, giving Ian a "trust me" look. "Why don't we split the difference, let her sit between Marie and Ian? She won't be much trouble."  
  
Ian looked at her, a feeling somewhere between curiosity and panic showing just barely on a face used to staying neutral. What ever she was up to, he had to trust that she would be able to handle it. "I have no objections, provided her parents have none," he said with a hint of a smile.  
  
"Well, now that we have that settled," Joe said.  
  
"Yes, everyone sit, sit," Marie said, waving them to chairs. "I will get the antipasto. Joe, open that wine." Once again she was in charge, tending the details of dinner as she encouraged them into their places, Sara and Robin flanking Joe, moving Anna's special little fork and cup over next to her grandmother.  
  
Sara patted Ian's arm, gently as he held the chair for her. It would work out, she was sure. Anna could run interference and keep Marie from focusing too much on Ian. They sat and watched as Joe opened the wine Ian had brought. With their attention on Joe, Ian removed his gloves and slipped them into his pocket. He did not want his father's idiosyncrasies to reflect badly upon Sara, or himself. "Can I see that, Dad?" Joey asked, looking at the bottle with interest. Joe shrugged and handed it across the table. "This is really good stuff, pretty expensive too," he said curiously.  
  
"Since when did you become a wine connoisseur?" Sara asked, trying to keep her tone light.  
  
"Since never, but in Narcotics we occasionally see something other than the inside of crack houses and meth labs," he said, giving as good as he got. Sara and Joe looked at each other, wondering how to derail him.  
  
"My father was fond of it, although I do not drink much myself," Ian said mildly.  
  
"Trying to make a good impression on your Mother, you should understand that, Joey." Looking at Robin significantly, Joe smiled at his son.  
  
"Yeah, the interrogation can be pretty intense, sorry Ian. I guess I'm coming across a little to older brother, huh?"  
  
"It is understandable. Sara is important to you, I would expect nothing less."  
  
"Yeah, I think I've been married so long I forgot," he said, looking at Robin with a bit of a grin. As if to break the tension, at that moment, Anna tugged on Ian's sweater a little. He looked down at her and gave her his full attention, trying desperately to remember what it was like to be that age.  
  
"Ian, are you going to marry my aunt Sara?"  
  
The room went completely silent, as everyone tried to think of what to say. Robin opened her mouth to chastise her daughter but it was hard not to laugh. Sara looked immediately at Ian worried about how he would take it. He had ducked his head a little and seemed to be almost blushing. She started to say something make a joke when she heard his quiet laughter. She started to ask but he just shook his head a little.  
  
Ian was confused, started, shocked and elated. Was it such a short time ago that he considered Sara beyond his reach? Considered himself unworthy to even take her hands without his gloves? Now he was sitting beside her at a family dinner while her family questioned his intentions and this small child wanted to know if they were going to marry. What was it that allowed children to say exactly what they thought without offense? He tried to remember himself at that age, was he so curious? Certainly his father had encouraged him to ask about his lessons, but not personal questions. He met Sara's eyes, wishing he could explain his amusement, the changes in his life that were so overwhelming that all he could do was laugh with joy. He pulled himself together just as Robin began to find her voice. "Anna." she began but Ian held up a hand to stop her.  
  
Ian leaned over to her, bending low to whisper in her ear. "Perhaps someday, my dear, but it is polite to wait until I have asked the lady herself. Will you keep my secret for me?" Anna looked at him with a wide eyed smile and nodded solemnly.  
  
"What did you." Sara started to ask as Marie came through the door carrying the antipasto.  
  
"Why is everyone so quiet?" she asked. "Joe, why is the wine still not poured? What have you all been doing?"  
  
Dinner settled into a pattern. The swirl of activity, of commotion was a surprise to Ian. He sat back as Marie served out the antipasto, encouraging him to eat. "Manga, manga, there's plenty," she said, as she passed the plate to him for a second time. It took very little to convince him to eat. Next came the Manicotti, the crepes indicative of a true Italian household, and stories. Joey told him about the things that Sara had gotten into, the games they had played.  
  
"She and Maria," he started, ready to begin another story of her misspent youth. Sara took it all cheerfully, correcting, arguing some of the finer points. It was amazing, here she was, a woman usually so sensitive about her reputation, so tough and distant in many ways, joking around about things that any where else she would be too embarrassed to mention. The talk swirled around willy-nilly, subjects changing and rearranging, Joey's latest case, a practical joke from Joe's academy days with James Pezzini, Robin's tales of elementary school mischief. For the most part Ian laughed or contributed only enough to be polite. The chaos was a little surprising for someone who only knew about formal dinner parties, or quiet dinners with his father, the two of them discussing a myriad of topics but nothing like this cacophony of sound, laughter and emotion. Emboldened and encouraged, Ian told a tale of his own, from his days in the military. The tale of Talon Green replacing the standard reveille with Carl Orff's Carmina Burana made the room ring with laughter. Ian smiled, pleased at the effect. He had never been one for storytelling, not really having been in a situation that required it.  
  
"The worst of it," he continued. "As I was watching the rest of my unit trying to regain some semblance of discipline was the looks on their faces as some of them rose, they were not happy with me. McGill had completely forgotten that he occupied a top billet. He had a sudden encounter with the floor which left him in a less than pleasant frame of mind."  
  
"Why would they blame you?" Sara asked as she tried to stifle the giggles that the picture of a hyper-trained military unit brought to its knees gave her.  
  
"Simple, it was my tape." The statement coupled with the twinkle in his eye set off a fresh round of amusement around the table. "My father would send me classical music from home, a reminder of what I was missing, perhaps," he said as the memory brought others with it, memories that he did not want at such a festive occasion. Sara caught the change and gave his arm a little squeeze. "The only thing that saved me from their wrath was that no one could picture me pulling a practical joke, whereas Green was notorious for them."  
  
As Joe carved the roasted lamb, Marie finally settled down long enough to begin the questions which were burning on the back of her tongue. He seemed to be relaxing well and his appetite was good, he ate as if he was expecting his next meal to be delayed. But now she wanted to find out something about him. All she knew at the moment was that he worked at Vorschlag, his father was recently deceased and he was completely and madly in love with Sara.  
  
"So, Ian, tell us a little about yourself," she asked, trying to sound casual.  
  
The questioning had begun. Ian tried to act casual. "There is very little to tell, I'm afraid," Ian said dismissively. "I was raised by my father, went to school, was in the military for a few years and then went to work for Vorschlag. I have been there ever since."  
  
"Vorschlag? Irons' company?" Joey asked, suddenly interested.  
  
"Yes," Ian confirmed quietly. He was waiting for the rest of it, for the whole thing to come out making him at once the outsider, viewed with suspicion by the rest of Sara's family. He tensed in preparation for the questions that would come, but he would not lie to them, or at least not any more than absolutely necessary.  
  
"Isn't he." Robin began.  
  
"Who wants some more lamb?" Joe interrupted, proceeding to fill the quiet with activity. It was a reminder to all that Ian was a guest and should be allowed a certain amount of peace, at least for the moment.  
  
"It is all right Joe. I'm afraid that I cannot tell you anything at the moment. There are considerations.I am sure you understand." There were nods around the table and Sara sighed quietly, another obstacle safely navigated. Anyone would understand confidentiality; it was something that had to be respected in a house full of cops.  
  
"Yes, I'm sorry," Joey said.  
  
"It is not a problem. It's not been easy at the moment, with all the rumors," Ian told them, gaining sympathetic nods all around. Anna tugged on his sweater a little to gain his attention and he looked down at her.  
  
"Yes, little one?" he asked, trying to be kind to the little girl.  
  
"Maybe your daddy can help? My Daddy helps people, so do Grandpa and Aunt Sara," she said proudly. Ian smiled sadly at the little girl, fighting the sudden pain in his heart.  
  
"My father is no longer alive, my dear," he said softly.  
  
"I'm sorry," Anna said, giving him a sad look. Robin started to say something, but Ian already had it taken care of, reassuring the little girl. Somehow he seemed to have a natural way with her, without treating her like a baby.  
  
"It's all right, you did not know."  
  
"Yes," Marie said. "Was Mr. Nottingham an old man?" she asked carefully.  
  
The response was sudden and surprising. Ian was trying to take a drink when her words hit him. The choking started immediately and Sara hid her reaction as she pounded him none too gently on the back, her mind racing for a way out of this. Joe's eyes got large and he immediately looked down at his plate. Joey and Robin looked at one another in confusion; it was an odd reaction to a simple question.  
  
"It.I." Ian started, trying to cough and get his thoughts in order at the same time. Sara was trying to figure out a way to help him out but her mind was blank. He took her hand and squeezed it while he worked out his answer. There was nothing to do but get it over with. At some point he would have to tell them the truth, he just was not looking forward to it, afraid of how they would look at him, how they would treat him when they knew.  
  
"Hey Marie, why don't we get the table cleared?" she asked, looking significantly toward the kitchen.  
  
"All right," she said, confused. The two women started to clear the table with Robin's help while Sara gave Ian some time to formulate his answer. Joe looked at them both but he knew there was nothing that could be done. It had always been a forgone conclusion that Marie would want to know more, and there was no way to help him out of it.  
  
They returned with fruit and cheese and small cups of Grappa all around. Joe distracted them for a few moments as he peeled the orange, shaping the peel into a pair of eyeglasses for Anna to play with. But even that was only delaying the inevitable. Ian took a deep breath and looked over at Marie. She was a nice woman, and only trying to do well by Sara.  
  
"I am sorry about that, Marie; it was just a bit of a shock. My father was not Mr. Nottingham; I don't really know where the name came from." The table went silent as confusion descended. Ian was trying to find the right words, looking into his drink, at Sara, anywhere for inspiration.  
  
"I'm sorry," Marie told him. "I didn't mean to step on a painful subject."  
  
"No, it would have to be said sometime. I have not been accustomed in my life to talking about my family life at all. My father was a very cautious man, and a very wealthy one. Unfortunately it is about to become public knowledge and I am unused to handling such scrutiny. Sara was trying to protect me, I am afraid," he said with a shy smile at his love.  
  
"Ian, you don't have to." Marie said, feeling sorry for him. It was a horrible thing to spend your life denying who you are. What kind of father would do that to his son?  
  
"Ah, but I do. I would not want you to think ill of me when you see it in the news. When you asked me about my position, and I said I had been head of security until recently, that was nothing but the truth. When my father passed away, I became the owner of Vorschlag Industries. I am sure you can understand my caution."  
  
The silence in the room was deafening as the assembled company began to put two and two together. Sara looked at Ian, holding his arm tightly and Joe paid studious attention to the biscotti he was dipping in his Grappa, as if it would give him some inspiration. He knew as soon as they had left, that Marie was going to have more than a few words to say to him.  
  
"But that would make you." Marie started to say. The earlier conversation came back to all of them in a flash, realizing that he had told them something very important in that one instant.  
  
"So Irons is dead," Joey said, a bit more bluntly than he intended in his shock. Ian nodded, his feeling of camaraderie with these people wiped away with that one statement and now he was once again the outcast, only Sara's comforting hand keeping him from excusing himself and leaving.  
  
As he tensed beneath her grip, Sara's hold tightened, as if she were afraid he would run were she not restraining him. The warm flow of her feelings, her love was all the response he got, but it was all he needed.  
  
"I am sorry about your Daddy," Anna said, trying to make her new friend feel better.  
  
"Yes, Ian. I understand now," Marie told him kindly. "Here I am being an old busy body and you are in the middle of so much. Is everyone ready for desert?" Her tone, the fact that she appeared to harbor no animosity towards him was a shock to Ian. He smiled at the comment. In some ways she reminded him of Cook, anything could be handled by the appropriate application of food.  
  
There was a universal nod around the table and Marie turned to her husband. "Joe, help me with this," she said, the command clear in her voice as she grabbed up the plates and disappeared into the kitchen with her husband behind her. Joe was walking slowly, the cautious step of the condemned man toward the gallows.  
  
In the dining room, Joey and Sara smiled at one another and then at a very confused Ian. "Don't worry, he will be ok. Mama just does not like surprises," Joey told Ian, once again trying to include him in the circle around the table. A lot of things were now making sense and besides, the guy made Sara happy. That was enough to grant him a place at this table.  
  
"Joseph Siri," Marie began the minute the kitchen door closed behind him. "How could you not tell me the truth? Let me stick my nose into that poor boy's business without a single clue as to what he was going through?"  
  
"Marie, calm down, I only found out myself this morning and I really didn't have time to tell you. Besides, they are really trying to keep it quiet for a little while until the formal announcement."  
  
"That is not the same thing at all. I should have known before I blundered in and upset him." She bustled around the kitchen as she talked, putting the tiramisu on plates and getting the coffee fixed.  
  
"Marie, stop," Joe said firmly. "Ian has been through a whole lot. I don't know what his relationship with his father was, but I know that there have been a lot of problems getting this ironed out. He is trying to get ready to go public with this and the last thing he needs is to be fussed and flustered over. I figured a simple family dinner was just what he needed, not to be fussed over like we were having the bishop to dinner." Marie stared at him. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but she couldn't. She would have made a big deal of it, and that was not what he needed.  
  
"All right, now get those plates. The children are going to think I am killing you in here if we are gone much longer," she said as she grabbed up the delicate demitasse cups that had been her grandmother's and put them on a tray to carry through. 


	42. Part 6I

Sara and Ian left the Siri house with full stomachs, a backseat full of leftovers and promises from all concerned to have dinner again soon. Anna insisted on a hug from Ian, and it was clear to everyone that the little girl had charmed her way into Ian's heart with no effort at all. As they drove away in the dying light of the day, Sara leaned over and gave Ian a kiss.  
  
"What was that for?" he asked, a little surprised and pleased by her affection.  
  
"For surviving, for volunteering to put yourself through all that to make me happy."  
  
"I would do anything to make you happy," he told her.  
  
"Yes, but I know how hard it was for you. Irons did not strike me as the family dinner type," she said lightly.  
  
"Actually we had dinners, not like yours though. It was just the two of us; a family dinner was my father and I sitting in the library, discussing things, the business, the Witchblade. Unlike the Siri's, it was always very quiet. When I went away to school, the hardest thing for me to get used to was all the noise. When I came back home, it was the quiet that kept me awake, waiting for something, anything to happen." The sadness was back, but in the midst of it all was a smile for the happiness he had seen. He wished he had a way to explain to her how much it meant to him, to know that she had these people, that when her family was gone, there were people to be there for her as she was for him. One day he would explain to her about the past, about the times he had watched, the pictures that had been taken of her. Now she was there for him, in a way he had never been allowed to be for her. They drove on in silence for a time, remembering the past, and thinking of the new memories to be made in the future.  
  
When they arrived at her building, Ian let her out with the food. Marie had given them enough leftovers to feed a small army, with a comment about Sara's tendency to avoid cooking and the need to keep him properly fed. They had all laughed, but Ian and Sara accepted the food as well. When he returned from parking the car, Sara was already putting the food away in the glass fronted industrial refrigerator. He hung up his coat and removed his gloves before joining her in the kitchen, taking his place at the table to watch her. He still enjoyed watching her do everyday tasks, even as his mind wandered to all the new things he hoped they could do together. Sara finished and turned around with a sigh.  
  
"Tired, my love?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, too much good food, I am always ready for a nap after dinner with them." She took his hand and they moved into the living room. Ian pulled off his sweater and folded it neatly over the back of the chair. "You are amazing, you know that?" Sara told him as she settled down on the couch, making a space for him beside her.  
  
"How so?" he asked, looking at her a little confused.  
  
"You managed the meeting without a problem when I was so nervous I thought I was going to pass out, got through dinner and the interrogation with Joe and Marie, and still manage to remember to be so tidy. I can't remember to pick up my socks most days." There was a sudden stab, just a moment of uncertainty, blind panic as it swept through Sara's tired brain. What were they doing? How on earth could the two of them put together their very different lives and hope to have it work? Then she looked at him, moving towards her, pulling the tie out of his hair because he knew it pleased her. You and I ... are alike, more than any two on this earth. When he had said those words to her, she had thought he was nuts. Who knows, considering all they had been through maybe they both were. Looking at him now, she knew he had been right. In spite of their differences, they were very much alike, and that made all the difference.  
  
Ian laughed as he sat down on the couch and braced himself in the corner. Somehow without words they seemed to have reached a mutual agreement, a comfortable place to be together. He reached out to pull her into his arms, swinging his feet up so she was resting on top of him. The suddenness of the move brought a smile to her face. He had come so far in such a short time, as if he wanted to make up for the years of isolation all at once. Now that he had a taste for physical contact between them, he could not seem to get enough. "Are you sure this isn't uncomfortable?" she asked as she tried to settle in without stabbing him with an elbow or anything else. "I can move, you know, we could."  
  
"Are you comfortable?" he asked her, adjusting his position a little to allow him to stretch out as well as he was able without dislodging her.  
  
"Well, yes, but.."  
  
"Then so am I. Sara, I want you close," he said softly, his eyes shining. How could she possibly resist? She nodded to him and relaxed. She did have to admit, he made a hell of a pillow.  
  
Ian shifted a little, making sure that Sara was secure against him, reassuring himself that the position allowed him to move her quickly to safety if necessary, calculating a few moves designed in case of attack to put him between her and any possible danger, all while enjoying the feel of her against him. "There, better?" he asked, as he wrapped his arms a little closer around her, one hand settling under the back edge of her shirt to enjoy the silky skin beneath.  
  
"Ummm, nice," was the only comment she made as she snuggled in, pulling the throw over them. Slowly as the light faded from the sky, he watched her breath even, her eyes droop. The still of the room, the silence was comforting; the only sound was the ticking of the clock, and the soft sigh of her breath against him. He could feel the beat of her heart and his as they matched rhythms, joining together until he could not distinguish one from the other. Ian let himself relax and drifted off to sleep, completely content with his world.  
  
When Sara woke, the room was in complete darkness, the insistent pressure in her bladder telling her that her nap had been longer than she had planned. Ian was asleep, warm and comfortable underneath her, holding her tightly, his soft, even breathing ruffling her hair. He was so peaceful, so comfortable; she did not really want to wake him but could not see a way around it. Slowly she tried to slip from beneath his arm, but he stirred and tightened his grip.  
  
"Ian, I need to get up. I need to go to the bathroom," she whispered urgently. She tugged a little and he released her, waking up just enough to register her words as she slipped away. He opened his eyes for a brief moment and watched as she slipped into the bathroom, only falling back to sleep when he heard the bathroom door close behind her, reassured that she was safe and not leaving the apartment.  
  
Once alone in the bathroom, Sara realized exactly how grubby she felt. While the nap had been great, suddenly she felt the need for a shower, something to clear away the cobwebs. No, not a shower, a bath. It had been a while since she used the big old-fashioned bathtub. Ian was still asleep and she could take a little time. Besides she did not want to return to him looking and feeling like something that any well respecting cat would refuse to drag in. She turned on the hot water and started to undress, tossing aside the crumpled clothes and adding a handful of bath salts left over from a birthday gift that Vicki had given her. As the steam rose, she slipped into the tub, lowering her body into water so hot it was almost painful and letting all the tension of the day melt away as she lost herself in thought.  
  
Ian woke alone in the dark living room, wondering where Sara was. He remembered vaguely that she had risen at some point to go to the bathroom, but he realized that she had not returned, but it did not feel as if anything were wrong. Rising from the couch, he went to the bathroom and knocked hesitantly on the door. "Sara?" he called, listening carefully for the sound of her voice.  
  
Sara rolled over in the bathtub, unsure whether she had heard anything. She waited, completely awake now, listening. "Sara, are you all right?" Ian's voice called through the closed door, barely discernable through the thick wood. The water relaxed her and the thought of him out there sent her mind along some interesting directions.  
  
"I'm fine. Why don't you come in here? I can't hear you through the door." Ian heard the invitation, but he paused. It was not as if he had not seen her undressed before, had not memorized every inch of her body, but still he hesitated. The thought of her in the bath led him to other thoughts, the pleasure of her slick body against his. He opened the door and stepped into the bathroom slowly, the bright light a stark contrast to the darkness of the room behind him. Slipping through the door, he walked in, his gaze transfixed on the sight of her, reclining there in the blue water. She was gazing up at him, her arms crossed under her chin, on her lying stomach; water drops beading on her bare back.  
  
Sara gave him a lazy smile, watching him. "You were not there when I woke up," he said. "I was concerned." The look in his dark eyes showed something else entirely though. She shivered a little at the intensity in his eyes. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you look?" he asked, his voice husky with emotion. She felt a wave of emotion flowing from him, goose bumps rising on her skin.  
  
"Um, you could join me?" she suggested.  
  
"I am not." he started, just a touch unsure in the stark light of the bare room.  
  
"Scared?" she teased with a hint of challenge in her voice. A sudden idea struck him along with the need to answer her dare.  
  
"Not at all," he said, with a wicked grin. He turned, disappearing into the other room, leaving her staring after him, confused. She started to rise, but he was back in a moment, his arm full of candles. He placed them around the room, being careful to make sure they were on flat surfaces. Slowly he lit them, turning off the overhead light, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow. The gentle light made him a bit more comfortable. It was much easier to hide things by candlelight, and at the same time made the room more intimate, less stark and utilitarian. "Are you planning on staring?" he asked a little self consciously, as she watched him unbutton his shirt.  
  
"Would you like me to turn my back?" she asked a little sarcastically. He raised an eyebrow at her as he finished disrobing and approached the tub. 


	43. Part 6 J

Ian stood beside the tub, his eyes firmly locked on her, mind spinning with emotions and ideas. It had been a long day and he wanted nothing more than to spend more time with her, exploring their new relationship. Last night seemed like an eternity away, had filled him with images, and now that the opportunity had come he was not one to resist. He knelt down next to Sara, his face close to hers and kissed her gently. "Sara, I have never tried this before, be kind." His words were serious but his tone was light, she smiled and nodded, drawing her feet up a bit as he stood and stepped into the tub with her. As he knelt down at her feet, Sara started to roll over. Ian stopped her with one gentle hand. He pulled her legs around him, lifting her hips to slide his knees beneath her. Placing his hands on her back, Ian slid forward, her lean legs drawn over him resting her weight on his knees to give him a bit of space in the crowded interior. I need to remember this when we return to the house, he thought, contemplating the large bathtubs in a couple of the rooms. The possibilities were mind boggling, but Ian was more than willing to work through them.  
  
Sara stretched out a bit, feeling his skin against her, the brush of his hands as he ran them over her back. She held her breath for a moment, waiting for the feelings to start, the joining of their two minds, but it did not come, just the warmth of his body. She turned to him in confusion but he merely smiled at her. "Last night you wanted me to stay out of your head," he whispered as he felt her mind brush his. He leaned over her, pressing a kiss on the base of her neck.  
  
Sara growled a little in frustration. "That was last night," she told him. "It's different, I."  
  
"Because you were in control? Do you not trust me?" The teasing note in his voice was distracting. Obviously he was learning a lot faster than she expected. The blatantly seductive tone in his voice she had never heard before causing her thoughts to scatter to the four winds. His fingertips brushed just barely over her skin and she could feel him leaning closer, the warmth of him. She tried to shift, regain control but he just laughed.  
  
Ian had suddenly found a new use for the years of training, the exercises and katas that left him with an almost inhuman flexibility. Thoughts and ideas filled his mind, thoughts of driving her so close to the edge as she had done to him filled him, as he traced his hands over her sides. Touch, butterfly soft and almost imperceptible, making her arch against his hands, instinctively craving more. The power was euphoric, the ability to make her feel the pleasure, the need that he felt, to control that need.  
  
Sara was going insane, her own game turned against her. She knew he was determined to drag this out, to make her crazy with his touch, while she was helpless to really do anything. But oh, what a sweet revenge, she thought. He leaned close to her, brushing his lips over her neck and back. She could feel the soft skin, the raspy brush of his beard, the contrast making each nerve ending stand up and take notice. What was he going to do next? she wondered. She could feel his reactions, his desire brushing against her, so close and so far away. She tried to slide down, to push herself closer to him, to the feeling that was there just beyond her reach. At the same time, the brief lessons he had given her on control, on blocking, trying to organize them, to find a way to break through and feel him. It was so addictive, that feeling, the ability to merge their desire into something, neither one nor the other, but an amalgam of the two, beyond reason or comprehension, only emotion.  
  
Ian was enjoying the feel of her skin, allowing himself to be completely absorbed by the motion of her body, the reactions. He could feel her trying to reach him, her body sliding against him, her mind just outside his, pressure building to fever pitch. The ache that being so close to her had brought now made more insistent by his own resistance. Before he had been at her mercy, now he was at his own, pushing his own discipline to draw out the experience further.  
  
"Ian," her voice sounded strange in her own ears, a strangled cry against the pressure she was feeling. Need was not a new experience, but this kind of overwhelming passion was still new enough to startle her every time. She wanted to do something, to say something to make him understand how she was feeling. Being thrust from the intimacy of their earlier experience back into the realm of the physical, where all you had was body and voice to make your partner understand. Was this what it was like for him? Is this what I did to Ian? The vagrant thoughts roamed through her head as she tried to focus. The effort was rendered moot, when he leaned against her, pressed his chest softly to warm skin, each tiny shift increasing the pressure on already over sensitive nerves. His arms glided up along her, coming to rest outside hers on the lip of the tub, hands caressing her arms gently. She felt his lips against her neck and turned her head in an effort to capture his mouth. He gave in, pressing his lips to hers, expressing his desire, his love with sweet kisses that filled only a little of the ache in her. She shifted again, slid against his heat and captured it inside her.  
  
"Sara," he whispered against her mouth as she felt him slowly release the barriers between them. His feelings poured over her in a flood, bringing sweet pleasure in their wake, shifting, joining, mind and body as resistance lost meaning in the face of love and desire. No longer a contest, a game, they moved together, reaching for something between them that could only be found together.  
  
As the haze passed, Ian eased himself up, away from her. Sara let out a sigh of loss, as he slid further back. He used gentle hands to guide her, as he shifted himself from between her legs, helped her move her leg around him. She turned over and he pulled her close into his arms. They were both trembling a little from the aftermath, and shivering a little from the water gone suddenly cold. Or perhaps not so suddenly, Ian thought, aware that he had lost all sense of time when he had lost himself in Sara. Regretfully, he let go of her and pulled himself slowly from the tub, reaching in after to help her out. Neither of them was too steady on their feet, and he reached for her robe to wrap around her, as he tried to find himself a towel. His questing hand finally pulled one from the towel bar, wrapped it around him. Slowly, leaning together, they made their way into the bedroom, to collapse in a contented pile on the bed, immediately seeking the warmth of one another, arms and legs wrapped close, blankets hastily drawn up against the chill.  
  
Sara smiled at him, snuggling close. There was something indescribably special about him, the delight that he felt in the simple closeness that followed their intimacy. He understood the need to be close, to hold on better than any man she had even known, possibly because of all the years it was denied to him. Somehow, she thought as she drifted off with wrapped around her, I don't think that will ever change. I don't think I want it to change.  
  
In the quiet darkness of the pre-dawn apartment, Ian woke. He almost always rose early, preferring the quiet solitude of the hour as a time to think, to reflect. He had always had a preference for these times, dawn and nightfall, the hours when the shadows could change everything in a heartbeat, the times when the world stood still, balanced on the edge of a knife for just that moment, before becoming either day or night, both and yet neither. Part of him wanted to slip away, out of the bed, out onto the fire escape, to watch the sunrise alone in the quiet, but the rest of him, the new Ian, wanted nothing more than to stay in bed forever, with Sara snuggled safely under his arm.  
  
He gazed down at the woman who had always been such a big part of his life, even before he had met her. In sleep she was for once completely at rest, her hair falling over her face, arm beneath her cheek, half on her side, half on her stomach, back pressed close, head resting in the curve of his shoulder. How he had survived so long without her, he did not know. His life before was like a shadow, colors sharp edged and grey as one day faded into the next. Duty had its place, its comfort and familiarity, but it lacked richness. If before he had been content in his familiar world, he was now happy in the midst of uncertainty and chaos, as long as he had Sara by his side. As if since he had met her everything had become clearer, cleaner. A new world lay open before them both, and both were scared in their own ways. He knew her history, her fear of getting too close, and he had no history at all, only love and destiny. Still he would not trade all the uncertainty of his present position for the security of the past, even the safety of his shadows, if it meant life without Sara.  
  
As the sky began to lighten over the city and still Ian lay in bed. He thought about waking Sara, but while his lady had many wonderful qualities, she was not a morning person. Waking her properly usually required time and coffee, and he had no desire to rise from his comfortable position yet. He watched the light creep slowly through the bare windows, slipping across the floor toward the place where they lay together. He brushed the hair gently back from her face, a sudden desire to watch the morning as it touched her. He slipped back a little farther on the bed, better to observe without interfering. As the light slid across the floor, it slowly illuminated her, highlighting the planes of her face. He watched, as he had so many times before, but this time he was next to her, laying just outside the fingers of dawn as they caressed her, urged him to follow.  
  
Touch, such a simple thing. In the last week he had learned more about touching, about being touched than he had in his entire life. He drew his hand along the shadows of her shoulder, her neck, her face, following their retreat in the face of the on coming day, a remembrance of a time not so long ago when he considered her part of the light and believed that he was forever doomed to shadow.  
  
Sara stirred under the gentle brush of his fingers, rolling toward him as if drawn by gravity. Ian held himself completely still as she rolled over and throw an arm over his neck, sliding her leg over his. Stirred ether by his touch or the intrusion of the sun, she buried her face in his shoulder, murmuring something unintelligible against his skin. Again he began to trace patterns, this time tracing light as it grew brighter, following the tendrils of radiance against her skin.  
  
Sara murmured into the warmth of Ian's shoulder. "Hmm, nice.pillow.way." Her unintelligible words convinced Ian that she was waking up. He smiled, allowing her to wake herself up against him. It was not in him to hurry her any more than was necessary, to do so would not only ruin his opportunity to continue watching the day begin to draw her in, but also risk her anger, her mood.  
  
Sara opened her eyes slightly, face pressed into Ian's shoulder, her mind slowly processing the warmth of his arm around her, his body pressed against her. Slowly she registered the feeling of light on her back; the internal certainty that morning had come. Monday morning. She needed to get up for another day, another round of crime and punishment. She buried her face against Ian, praying for a little more time. Waking up was something she never enjoyed, although she had to admit that waking up with him beside her beat waking up alone any day, even on a Monday.  
  
Vague thoughts, feeling filtered through her sleep-numbed brain as she breathed in the warm scent of his skin. It surrounded her, his presence, his love for her, things that she had given up on, buried to prevent people from getting too close, from being able to hurt her, all flooded back over the last few days. She was still afraid, of giving away a part of herself, of being hurt, rejected, and abandoned as she had been before by situation or death. But with Ian, she felt a bit of hope. Hope, the most frightening thing of all because it meant that her shell had cracked a bit. But he had hope enough for both of them, after everything he had been through; he still had faith in her, in them. If he could find a way to let her in, despite everything, then she could as well. Opening her eyes, she looked up into the face of love and trust. The expression on his face was more than enough to wake her up. Ian leaned closer, kissed her softly with that smile that made her thoughts turn to other things, things that in no way involved getting up and going to work. She pushed them away regretfully, there would always be later.  
  
"Coffee?" she whispered as his warm, reassuring presence made the morning just a touch better before it had even begun. Ian smiled, amused by her practical bent. Few things were more important to her than her coffee. The fact that he rated a kiss first gave him a small thrill. He started to pull away, intending on presenting her with a cup of her favorite life- giving beverage, but at his motion, she tightened her grip, leg snaking around one of his.  
  
"If you wish coffee." he said, making no further effort to move. He was more than content to leave both himself and the choice in her capable hands. Sara sighed regretfully. The internal battle was brief and violent, but in the end practicality and coffee reigned. She allowed her grip to loosen, watching as he pulled slowly away, allowing her hands to graze over his departing form. Ian rose slowly, backing up a few steps, warm brown eyes still locked with hers, causing her to seriously regret her choice. Just as she was considering changing her mind, giving in to the urge to call him back, he picked up his bag and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him with a hollow finality. Sara took a deep breath and shook her head. When he got out of there, she needed a shower, a cold one.  
  
Sara emerged ready to begin her day, or at least as ready as she was going to get. Ian was already fully dressed for the day, black suit perfectly fitted and impressive. He was talking on his cell phone, tugging at his collar as if it was already beginning to chafe. She smiled a little at the little boy look on his face. It was pretty clear that while he would dress the part and act it if necessary, he was not enjoying himself. I wonder what he will do now, she thought to herself. It's not like he wants to run Vorschlag, he has made that pretty clear. But he is not exactly going to give it away, or let Irons down by selling it or something. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. It really wasn't any of her business. Just because they were a couple now didn't mean she had any intention of interfering. It was a decision he would have to make on his own. There was a knock at the door, and she went to open it, pretty sure who was on the other side.  
  
"Hey Sara, where's the coffee?" Danny asked as he passed her on his way into the apartment. He nodded politely to Ian, who gave him a grimace as he continued his phone call. She passed Danny a cup and poured the last of the pot into her own. "This is really good, what happened?" he asked as he took a drink.  
  
"Hey, you don't like it; you don't have to drink it. But you're right, I think Ian's been upgrading my supplies again," she said, directing part of her comment at the back of the black clad figure. He turned and smiled indicating he had heard her but saying nothing, merely continuing to listen to whoever was on the other end of the phone.  
  
Finally, he freed himself from the restraint of his cell and joined them in the kitchen, moving to be closer to Sara. He was still not comfortable touching her in front of others, affection still a new skill, but Sara leaned back against him, a need to be close at some level. It was still shocking, that he had come to rely on her so much. All the years of waiting, of training for this. It was definitely worth it, he thought.  
  
"Well, I guess we'd better hit it," Sara said regretfully, turning to slip her arms around Ian, giving him a kiss before stepping away from him.  
  
"Yeah," Danny said, smiling a little to himself. "Got to go out there and get the bad guys. What about you Ian?"  
  
"Papers and meetings, I am afraid. I don't suppose you could find a use for me?" he said with a pleading look. They both laughed, the thought of Ian hiding out in the office to escape the paperwork was incredibly funny.  
  
"No, afraid not. I just can't see explaining it to the rookie, much less the rest of the squad."  
  
"Not without having to break a few heads," Danny said. Ian gave him a questioning look. "Bad for her rep," he said by way of explanation, ducking as Sara mimed a swing. She gave Ian a final kiss, grabbed her jacket, and led the way out the door.  
  
The trip began in companionable silence. Sara and Danny had known each other for long enough that words were not necessary between them. Danny was still contemplating her new boyfriend. Ian was a nice enough guy, a little quiet, shy even for someone with the training and the skills that he had. The most important thing about him was he made Sara happy. Danny didn't know how long he had waited for it, for her to find someone who was able to keep up with her, stand up to her. It was still a little early to tell but things seemed to be going pretty well. He had definitely never seen her happier.  
  
Sara sat and fiddled with the radio, trying to find something worth listening to. She finally settled on a local classic rock station and leaned back, enjoying the music and the ride, trying not to think about a day full of paperwork. Suddenly Danny leaned forward and turned up the radio, trying to catch something vaguely heard on the news.  
  
The Office of the Commissioner of Police today scheduled a news conference to announce the findings of a recent investigation into allegations of bribery and influence peddling within the police department's upper echelons. While details remain sketchy, Deputy Commissioner Harvey has been quoted as saying that indictments are pending. More news will be available..  
  
Sara turned the volume down, a smile curved on her face. Her partner gave her a suspicious look. "Something you want to tell me, Pez?" he asked as his curiosity got the best of him.  
  
"Not really," she answered.  
  
"Come on, give. You don't go around smiling this early for nothing. What's going on?" Sara sighed a little. Her partner was not one to give up, and what could it hurt to tell him anyway?  
  
"You know the guy that was pushing the investigation, Merano?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Ian looked into him. Turns out he was dirty, taking money to push certain things into the news, bury others. We turned it all over to the Commissioner. They figure on covering one news story with another."  
  
"Crucified by his own publicity.nice," Danny said, obviously impressed.  
  
"Ian's idea, needed something to get the whole Irons thing off the front page." She tried to keep her tone unconcerned, but Danny knew better.  
  
"When's the announcement?" he asked.  
  
"One week. Then everything changes." Danny could hear the concern and worry in her voice.  
  
"Hey, I'm sure he can handle it. After all he's managed to handle you so far, and that's a lot harder than just dealing with reporters." The joke had the desired affect; she turned to him, ready to rip him apart, when she noticed the twinkle in his eye. "Seriously Sara, I'm sure he'll be all right." Her partner's reassurance, his faith and acceptance of Ian was the comfort she needed. She smiled at him as they pulled into the station parking lot.  
  
"Danny, Thanks." She got out of the car and headed for the doors. "And Danny?" she called out over her shoulder.  
  
"Yeah, Partner?"  
  
"Just for that, you buy the coffee." 


	44. Part 6 K

The morning passed in a blur of paperwork, bad coffee and worse jokes as Sara and Danny tried to plow their way through the last of the backlogged files. It was early afternoon as Danny was trying to harass the lab for another copy of a lost ballistics report that Joe Siri popped his head in the office and asked Sara to join him. She shrugged at her partner as she followed the Captain into his office and closed the door behind her.  
  
"Sara, I'm just getting ready to go back over to the Commissioner's office. The press conference worked a lot better than expected. The announcement shook a lot of people up, there are some pretty high ranking people wetting their pants this morning wondering who's next and if they are on the list. Apparently information is flooding in from all kinds of unexpected places." Sara looked startled and Joe smiled at her. "Good work."  
  
"Not me, Joe. It was all Ian," she said, as she sat there grinning. She was absolutely floored by the reaction. Ian had really shaken everything up in the process of helping them out of their little problem.  
  
"Well, I'll be sure to tell him that when I see him. Seriously, Sara, he seems like a nice guy. I'm happy for you. But be careful, Marie is practically ready to send out wedding invitations," Joe said with a laugh.  
  
"I will, and thanks. It means a lot that you like him. I mean, you guys are all the family I really have left." Joe waved her comments off; neither of them was really good with these emotional scenes.  
  
"Now you get back to work before I have to come down on you. I need to get going." Sara nodded and headed through the door, trying to hide the smile that kept trying to creep across her face.  
  
Geez, Pezzini, you go around grinning like an idiot you are never going to live it down, she thought to herself.  
  
When she walked back into her office the first thing that caught her eye was the sight of Jake McCarty sitting at her desk. The Californian rookie had his feet propped up and was reading through one of her files. Of Danny there was no sign. "Hey rookie," she said, smacking him lightly across the back of the head. "Move it. Now. Where's my partner?"  
  
"Hey Pez, sorry. I just needed to find the files from Gorner and his partner. Captain wants me to go over them with the DEA." Sara glared at him, and he got up in a hurry. "Do you still have them? They aren't in the file room."  
  
"Yeah, I think Danny." she started as her partner walked in the door, a cup of coffee in each hand.  
  
"Think I what, Partner?" he asked as he handed her a cup. Sara took one sip and gave him a black look. After the stuff that Ian had bought her, facing what the house laughingly called coffee was a hard transition. She returned to her chair, taking another sip of the so-called coffee with a grimace. Oh, well, better than nothing, she tried to tell herself.  
  
"Jake needs the files from Gorner. He's got the DEA briefing."  
  
"Oh, how did you luck out?" Danny asked as he dropped into his own chair, reaching around to the pile behind him. Sara watched them for a moment, drinking, thinking about everything that had happened since she had encountered the Witchblade. Her reverie was interrupted as the phone on her desk began to ring.  
  
As Danny sorted through the files with Jake, he tried to keep one ear on the one half of the strange conversation Sara was having. "Yes, but about what? How am I supposed to know what to bring.Al right yes, as soon as I can get over there. Fine." she finished, slamming the phone down.  
  
"What's up, Sara?" he asked. Both he and Jake looked at her expectantly as she stood and grabbed her jacket. There was a look of concern and confusion on her face.  
  
"That was someone from Special Investigations. Seems Captain Dante wants to talk to me about something. Have we had any cases that overlap with them lately?"  
  
"Not that I know of. Did they say what it was about?"  
  
"No, just that I needed to get over there now. I'll give you a call and let you know," she said with a shrug as she walked out of the office. Jake looked at Danny but, receiving no response, he gathered his files and left also.  
  
Danny sat down at his desk, wondering why he had a bad feeling about the call. He was pretty sure that nothing they had done recently had any connection to Dante's hand picked squad. The only thing they had been focused on recently was Irons, and everyone seemed interested in him.  
  
He looked at the telephone, trying to make up his mind. If he did this and he was wrong, Sara would be really pissed at him, but if he did nothing and she got herself in trouble... Decision made, he picked a file, found the number he was looking for, and dialed.  
  
Sara caught a ride downtown with one of the couriers from administration. The trip passed in silence as she tried to figure out what Dante could possibly want. She had never really had much contact with the loud-mouthed head of the Special Investigations Section. He had known her father and Joe Siri for years, but every time he looked at her it made her skin crawl. Not that he had ever said anything to her accept in passing, or really been rude to her, but there was a sneer on his face that was just plain irritating.  
  
A vision formed in her mind.her father and Joe Siri standing together in the squad room. "The guy is dirty, I know that," he was saying to Joe. He was pacing angrily, obviously agitated.  
  
"Don't let him get to you. The man's a jerk. Besides, you don't want to piss him off. His rabbi is in line for Deputy Commissioner."  
  
"I don't care, he."  
  
"Jim, Dante is going to climb the ranks and he doesn't care who he has to run over in the process. If you make trouble for him, he will make twice as much for you." Joe shook his head and handed his partner a cup of coffee. "It's just how it is. If you get some proof, then maybe we can do something, but until then, all I am saying is be careful."  
  
Sara was pulled out of her vision at the sound of her name and realized that they had arrived. Slowly, still mulling the vision over in her mind, she stepped out of the car and headed for the doors, nodding a distracted farewell to her ride.  
  
Entering the building, Sara mulled over the vision, memory, whatever it was that she had seen. What did it mean? Obviously her father had suspected Dante of something, but that really couldn't have anything to do with this. Or could it.everything is connected.The 'blade weaves a web.Unbreakable. The voice was strange, but the sentiment.She looked down at the bracelet, sitting more or less quietly on her wrist. What was it that Dante wanted from her? These thoughts occupied her through the lobby and up the elevator to where Special Investigations was housed.  
  
The conference room into which Sara was directed held the usual institutional furniture, featureless and worn, and two men. Captain Bruno Dante was a middle-aged Italian American with strong features and the slicked back hair of an earlier generation. His dark, heavy lidded eyes and coldness of expression gave his face an almost reptilian appearance. These factors, combined with his attitude, gave Sara the sinking feeling that this was not going to be a simple exchange of information. The other officer, identified as Burgess, was young and a bit hard looking, but otherwise unremarkable.  
  
She looked at them both cautiously. While nothing was obviously wrong, something was making her nervous, all her instincts on alert for no discernable reason. She rubbed the Witchblade reflexively under her sleeve, hoping for something, inspiration, a vision, at least a clue as to what she should do. Her interaction with Dante had always been limited, but there was a look about him, like he was searching her face for something, some sign of guilt, like she had done something to him personally. He waved her to the chair and motioned for Burgess to close the door.  
  
"So Detective Pezzini," he began as she dropped into the chair and tried to get comfortable.  
  
"Sir, what is this all about?" Sara asked cautiously.  
  
"Like getting straight to the point, don't you Detective?"  
  
"I try sir."  
  
"Well, then by all means. You've been working on the Vorschlag case, haven't you?" he said. His tone was a bit more aggressive and she knew they were getting closer to the point. Why did everything have to come back to Irons? she thought, and what can I tell him, without causing more trouble? She took a deep breath and reached down, trying to remain calm. She did not want to alarm Ian, or distract him.  
  
"My partner and I." she started.  
  
"This is not about Detective Woo," he said flatly. "This is about you and the visits you have been making both to Vorschlag and to the Irons' mansion in the company of one of the Vorschlag employees.alone."  
  
"I don't know what ..."she interrupted hotly.  
  
"You may have compromised an ongoing investigation by this office into possible illegal activities by Mr. Irons and I want to know what has happened." All semblance of a calm and pleasant conversation disappeared as his voice got louder and colder, anger showing clear with something else, something she could not quite identify.  
  
Ian felt the gamut of emotions rush through him, from irritation to concern to stone cold anger as the phone call proceeded. "Thank you for your help. I will deal with it now. I am already here," he said shortly. He was pretty sure that his caller would understand as he snapped the phone closed with a decisive click. He looked around the room, his eyes gone suddenly as dark and as dangerous as a cornered tiger. "Gentlemen, a problem has arisen that needs to be handled immediately," he said as he stood, threat in every line of his body. The men at the table looked on this sudden transformation with varying degrees of concern and shock. "There seems to be a problem with Detective Pezzini. I believe that we have everything that we need?" he questioned as he negligently swept the papers before him into his briefcase and moved to leave.  
  
The deputy commissioner and Captain Siri looked to their superior for instructions. "Well, you had best go with him. Trouble is the last thing we need at this point." They rose hurriedly, the unspoken concern flooding the room. They had all recognized the change from calm businessman to black clad angel of vengeance, and it sent a chill through the room like the draft from an open window. The commissioner found himself looking around before he remembered that they were on the top floor and the windows didn't open. 


	45. Part 6Finis

"Tell me, Detective," Dante snarled, the words practically spat out at her. "What you were doing at Irons' place for so long? Don't tell me you were investigating the murders."  
  
"I don't think what I do on my private time is any of your business," Sara said. She felt her anger rising, the Witchblade growing hot on her wrist.  
  
"It's my business when you may be compromising my position; when there is the possibility that you may be covering up."  
  
"I'm not covering up a damn thing," she said, her voice hot and angry. "My job is to investigate a couple of homicides and I have been doing my job."  
  
"Then I ask again, what where you doing out there?"  
  
"I was there to see a friend, nothing to do with the case."  
  
"And what friend would that be?" he asked in a voice full of barely disguised derision. Suddenly there was a crack, gunshot loud as the door was flung open slamming back against the wall of the conference room.  
  
"I believe that would be me," Ian said causally, framed in the opening, his elegant black attire standing out against the institutional grey walls like a piece of velvet on burlap. Burgess started to reach for his weapon but stopped, hesitating when no more threat was forthcoming.  
  
Dante's colour rose to even more alarming heights as he took in the sight. His worst nightmare come true, his eyes flicked back and forth between them like a lizard watching a grasshopper. "Freak. What? Irons' got you holding his leash for him now?"  
  
Sara's mouth opened as she flew out of the chair, but no sound emerged as her brain tried to process the situation. She needed to find someway out of the carnage she felt sure was to come. As the violence and hostility inside Ian boiled over, shredding her new formed shields like paper in a hailstorm.  
  
In a blur of motion, inhumanly fast, Ian was before him,, palm still raised from the cobra strike as Dante hit the wall with a resounding thud. The Captain's high colour had gone from bright red to sickly green in the space of a heart beat and he gasped for air, as the rest stood frozen in shock. Red and green, like cheap Christmas decorations in the snow, she thought irreverently as she tried to will her frozen limbs into action. She took in the whole tableaux, Deputy Commissioner Harvey and Captain Siri, looking a touch winded in the open doorway, and Ian slowly lowering his hand, his burning rage receding from her mind, leaving behind only the residual heat. She started forward but the Deputy Commissioner was there before her.  
  
"Mr. Nottingham, please accept our apologies, I am certain Captain Dante didn't mean to be offensive...the mitigating factors.so soon after your father's death.perfectly understandable that you." he rattled on, not completely sure what he was saying, what he could say to salvage this volatile situation. On the one hand Nottingham had assaulted a police officer, a Captain no less in front of witnesses. Still the provocation had been extreme and totally unprofessional in any circumstance. But then Dante has never been known for his tact, he thought in disgust.  
  
"I want that man arrested.NOW!" Dante said, trying to put some authority behind his still weakened and wheezing voice. Burgess started forward again but was stopped by Deputy Harvey's upraised hand.  
  
Taking control of the situation, he turned. "Siri, get the door," he commanded, his brain finally more or less in working order. "Mr. Nottingham, please have a seat, I am sure that this can be dealt with easily." He waved Ian into a chair and Sara slid gratefully into the one next to him as the adrenaline rush faded, all strength her strength suddenly evaporating. The Deputy motioned Dante to the other side as he claimed the top seat for himself.  
  
Sara could feel the malevolent glare from across the table, and watched as for just a moment, Ian's masque slipped, the dangerous cold-blooded killer returning threat for stare before the civilized demeanor remerged across his handsome features. Joe Siri settled in on Sara's other sides, allegiances as clearly drawn as the lines on any battle field.  
  
"Now, Captain Dante, there are certain facts which you are not aware of; facts which make this situation very unfortunate."  
  
"The man attacked me, he works for Irons and he and the detective."  
  
"Mr. Nottingham had more than sufficient provocation," the Deputy replied coldly. "And considering the recent death of his father and your implied insult to both of them, I don't believe you would find a jury willing to convict him. And to be blunt, the last thing the Commissioner wants is difficulty with the new owner of Vorschlag Industries." He gave the head of Special Investigations a hard glare as the information began to filter through the blocks Dante had built of anger and embarrassment.  
  
"You.He." He started. Joe Siri lowered his head, trying to hide his amusement. For the first time in twenty years Bruno Dante was at a loss for words. And I was here to see it, he thought. The urge to laugh out loud was almost overwhelming.  
  
"Upon the recent death of my father, I am the new head of Vorschlag Industries," Ian confirmed, the very Irons like smile on his face giving his statement credibility.  
  
"But that makes you."  
  
"Yes, it does." The deputy finished. "As to any other questions you have regarding the investigation, that case is closed to the satisfaction of the Commissioner. I trust that the subject is also closed?!" He gave Dante a quelling look, holding his gaze until the other man nodded reluctantly. "Good, as Mr. Nottingham is holding off on the formal announcement until arrangements can be made, I expect that none of this will leave the room." Satisfied he looked at Ian for confirmation.  
  
"That will be acceptable," he said. "I am sure you are men of honor." The emphasis on the final word and the quick flicker of his gaze were the only external signs of any reservations he had. Should there be a leak, no one was left with any doubt as to who he would hold responsible.  
  
Ian rose, his participation clearly at an end, the others stood as well, as he offered Sara his arm. The deference did not go unnoticed by Dante, but he filed it away for the moment. I will get that bitch and her pet freak in time, he thought to himself as he tried to swallow his disgust and bruised ego and offered them a sour smile.  
  
Satisfies that the situation was safely under control, Deputy Commissioner Harvey led the way out, Captain Siri by his side. At a nod from his commander, Burgess followed, praying desperately he could get far enough away from the blast radius before his boss exploded. Ian gestured for Sara to precede him with a reassuring wave and turned back to Dante. His Father's smile flowed across his lips as he took the man's hand in a crushing grip. "Remember Bruno," he said softly, "I know all about you. Should you ever try to cause difficulties for Sara again, or threaten her in any form, I will first see that everyone else knows all about you as well." He left the threat hanging in the air between them as he added in a conversational tone, "Good day, Captain." He released the older man's painfully throbbing fingers and turned to join Sara and the other two officers.  
  
"Detective Pezzini," the Deputy said as they drew closer, "I have been speaking to Captain Siri. Considering the events of the day, why don't you take off early?" The smile was kind, but Sara still turned a suspicious look to Ian. She had never really felt comfortable about people taking advantage of their contacts, but she only had another hour on shift anyway and the confrontation with Dante and Ian's little emotional Armageddon had left her pretty well drained.  
  
"Well," she said a little uncertainly, "I need to go back to the house to bring my partner up to speed, and get my stuff, but." She looked at Ian.  
  
"If Captain Siri would be kind enough to give you a ride back, I will finish here and then meet you," he said easily. Joe looked at Harvey for conformation and then nodded. With a quick squeeze of her hand, Ian moved silently down the hall with the deputy, a smooth smile on his face.  
  
When Ian tapped on Sara's office door, she was sitting at her desk, her jacket within easy reach, talking with Joe and Danny. It was obvious from the smiles and chuckles all around what they had been discussing. Sara rose quickly and grabbed a handful of files. "Just let me drop these off and I will be ready to go," she said, disappearing through the door. Ian walked over and reached for Danny's hand.  
  
"I do not have the words to thank you," he started.  
  
"Don't worry about it," the Asian detective told him. "Karma, I am sure it will come back around. Besides you have already done wonders for her mood," he joked. Ian grinned and reached into his pocket for a card, which he handed to Sara's partner. Joe looked on with a smile, happy to see Danny's approval. It would have been rough if the two men hated each other.  
  
"Perhaps," Ian smiled. "But just in case." Danny looked at the card, seeing the cell phone number printed neatly on the back and nodded his understanding.  
  
"Yeah, just in case." The two men shook hands again just as Sara reentered the room.  
  
"Ok," she said, grabbing her jacket. They said their goodbyes and walked out, Sara slipping her small hand comfortably into Ian's as they headed for the door. Joe stood next to Danny in the office doorway watching them pass from sight.  
  
"Think he loves her?" Joe asked.  
  
"Yeah,"  
  
"Think she knows that?"  
  
"Maybe, whether she'll admit it." Danny left it there.  
  
"Think he's told her that?" Danny thought for a moment.  
  
"Yeah," he said certainly. They stood together in quiet reverie. Finally the detective asked his own question. "Think she loves him?"  
  
"Yeah," Joe answered.  
  
"Think he knows that?" Joe thought about it before answering.  
  
"Yeah," he said finally.  
  
"Think she's told him?" Danny questioned. The two men looked at one another thoughtfully.  
  
"Nah," they both said together, smiling, before turning and going off their separate ways, both filled with hope.  
  
.So there is no pat ending, no neat finale, no single final image.  
  
FINIS 


End file.
